Unwilling Bridegroom
by Airia Black
Summary: Slight AU Motivated soley by revenge out of the imprisonment and death of her father, Cagalli had forced Athrun Zala into marrying her. However, she was shocked when she realized she was actually trying to find reasons for having fallen in love with him.
1. Chapter 1

**Authors Note: Please Read!**

This story is taken and altered from a story I read a while ago called "Unwilling Bridlegroom." It follows basically the same plot as the book, only with the characters of Gundam rather then the books originally, cliched characters. I felt the characters of Gundam would make the plot a little bit more interesting, and quite frankly, I felt it fit an Athrun/Cagalli story quite well. So lets set things straight. This fanfiction differs from the original plot line of GS. Cagalli's father did not die in episode 40, but rather in the way I see fit, which will be explained rather shortly. Due to her father's predicament, Cagalli's life was changed drastically and she did not participate actively in the GS plotline which followed the wars. This plot, as you will see is set shortly after both GS and GSD. Both wars are over. Cagalli did not participate in the wars, Athrun assumably did, and is now Chairman of ZAFT. They did not meet on the island in episode 24, nor did Cagalli participate in the final episodes of Gundam Seed and the battle of Jachin Due. Up until this point in time, they are complete strangers. As you will read in this first chapter, Cagalli is no longer the princess of ORB. Hopefully things will be more clearly explained as the plot goes on. So in short, I can say that yes, the plot is somewhat "AU" (aka. alternate universe), but relates back to terms and events that happened during both GS and GSD. Things basically went the same, rather without the active participation of Cagalli. You will see how her life turned out instead.

* * *

**Chapter 1**

"Daddy, Daddy, don't let them take you away!"

The child's cries rang out in the sparsely furnished vistors' room and the man's face contorted with grief. Bending down to the little girl, he caught her close.

"I'm innocent, Cagalli! Remember that."

"I will," the child sobbed, and was still crying as she was led out of the prestigious Law Courts of the United Emirates of ORB to a car waiting to take her back to the orphanage.

The dour-face woman beside her experienced a twinge of compassion. It was the first time the child had cried since her father had been arrested four months ago, and she hoped these tears were a good sign. Cagalli Yula Athha would find life very hard unless she learned to conform. Unfortunately, she was not a normal eleven-year-old—if normality meant mixing with children her own age—for she was, or should say had been, ORB royalty until her father had resigned as Chief Representative of ORB prior to his incarceration. She had been taught by a tutor and had spent her free time exclusively with her father, acquiring no interests other than his. And no one could say politics and wine was a suitable interest for a child, the woman thought grimly.

"You won't find it easy, Cagalli," she said aloud. "But once you learn to mix with children of your own age—"

"I hate children of my own age!"

"Maybe you do, but you will be living among them till you're eighteen. Make up your mind to that and it won't be so bad."

"My father will be free in five years," the child said fiercely. "Then he'll come and take me away."

The women said nothing and contented herself by raking the streets for a sign of familiar landmarks.

"Here we are," she said at last. "Wipe your eyes, Cagalli. You don't want everyone to know you've been crying, do you?"

"I don't care," the little girl said, and followed the women across the pavement and into a large ball hall smelling of disinfectant.

They had reached the foot of the stairs when the telephone rang. Motioning the child to remain where she was, the women hurried to answer it. The words she uttered into the receiver were terse, but the look she gave her charge boded ill for what was to come.

"Cagalli," the woman's voice was unusually soft. "Come into the office. I have something to tell you."

The women went on talking and though Cagalli took in what was being said to her, it was impossible for her to feel any more emotion. All she knew was that her father had been assasinated within a few moments of saying goodbye to her.

"I will arrange for you to have supper alone with me," the woman said, for thought she did not understand this child, she was not unkind. "Perhaps you would like to sleep in my room too? Just for tonight, that is."

"No, thank you," the little girl said. 'I want to be alone, and I don't want any supper either."

"Very well. But normally you're not allowed to miss a meal. We have rules here and you must obey them. If you don't, you'll be unhappy here."

"I expect to be unhappy."

The woman sighed more sure than ever that her new charge was going to be difficult. But in the following months she was proved wrong. The child, at first was a hell-born spitfire, but after a few weeks of raising hell within the orphanage, did as she was told with the minimum of fuss and could be likened to a little ghost as she walked silently down the corridors in the blue serge dress, her golden hair in a tight plait, her thin legs encased in brown wool stockings and black dress shoes. She was scrawny and tom-boyish, and as predicted, did not fit in well with the other children. However, academically she was far ahead of the other children in her class, and the teachers talked among themselves to see if there was any way in which they could further her education.

"It will be an awful waste if she doesn't have the chance she deserves," her form-mistress said, the day her charge turned twelve.

"Not many of us have the chance we deserve," the matron said drily, "and daughters of criminals…" She did not finish what she was saying, knowing the words should have never been said. Her father was after all, the former Chief Representative of ORB. And despite what crimes had been committed, the man deserved more respect then she accredited him for. "I will talk to the Board," she continued brusquely, "but I doubt if they can do anything."

Once again, fate played a part in Cagalli's life, entering it in the personage of James Howard, a Coordinator, and a lawyer who, in official jargon and with many legal documents bearing the Home Official seals of both ZAFT, the PLANTs, the Earth Alliance and ORB, made it clear that Uzumi Nara Athha convicted of fraud in his lifetime, had been pardoned of it in death.

"I always knew my father was innocent," Cagalli said. "They were fools not to have believed him."

"It was a matter of evidence."

"The evidence was wrong, wasn't it?"

"Yes, but—"

"Then why were fools not have known it themselves!"

The lawyer looked into the contemptuous amber eyes.

"You are a lucky girl," he said stiffly. "In order to right some of the wrong, Chairman Zala wishes me to—"

"I don't want anything from the Chairman."

"You are a ward of the court and must do as they say. Happily they have accepted his offer."

For the first time Cagalli looked afraid and, with a pang of conscience, James Howard realized she was only a child.

"You will be going to one of the most exclusive prepatory boarding schools in Copernicus City," he said. "The Chairman wishes to take over the cost of your education."

"I won't let him!"

"He regards it as his duty."

"You mean he has a guilty conscience!" she nearly shouted at him.

Wisely, the lawyer refrained from comment and instead said he wanted her to leave with him within the hour. If anything, he felt the Chairman himself felt little or no regret towards the child's current state of welbeing, a natural child none the less, however, politics within the PLANTs and relationships with both the Earth Alliance and ORB dictated that he take responsibility for the girl's state of affairs. Silently, the child went out, looking surprisingly young for her age, though this might have been because her dress was too long and her short hair, still worn in a messy plait looked childish and out of place.

Only during the shuttle journey did she start to talk again, asking careful questions about the new school and about the Chairman and her father.

"How did they discover he was innocent, and why is the Chairman of ZAFT still involved?"

"He isn't involved," the lawyer said choosing his words quite carefully. "But naturally, he was distressed that your father had been wrongly convicted. The discovery was made when Earth Alliance soldiers were engaged on another inquiry involving a weapons dealer in Belgium. They noticed certain similarities to your father's case and re-opened the file. It took months to piece things together, but they were finally able to prove he had never illegally trafficked nuclear weapons through neutral states."

"Anyone who knew my father knew that," the girl said scornfully. "That's why I hate the Chairman. He was my father's political ally: the countries were all in truce. He should have known the truth rather then accuse the Head Representative of Orb, a peaceful and unarmed country of trafficking nuclear warheads!"

"He knows it now. ZAFT intelligence uncovered the truth and your fathers name was cleared."

"It's too late."

"Not for you, Cagalli. You are being given a chance to make a new life yourself."

"On the moon?" she asked skeptically. Her eyes hardened and took on an icy glare. "By the man who destroyed my other one!"

"You must learned forgiveness," the lawyer admonished. The child looked away from him.

"Will I have to remain at school until I am sixteen?"

"Longer still, if you wish to go to university. The PLANTs are home to world renowned university's Cagalli…it would be wise if you attended them."

"You need money for that," Cagalli said pointedly.

"There will be sufficient funds for you to continue your education as long as you like."

"Then perhaps I _will_ go to university. I want to grow up to be very clever."

"A commendable ambition. Do you have any particular career in mind?"

"I wanted to take over my fathers' position as Head Representative and be involved with the politics of running my people's country…" she began softly. "However, seeing as how that right was stripped from me when my father resigned and had his noble birth right taken from him…I have no clue. But whatever I do, I am going to be the best."

It was not, the lawyer reflected, a childlike comment, but then Cagalli Yula Athha was not like any child he had ever known.

* * *

It was a thought that returned to him eight years later when he received a polite note from her asking if she could come and see him again. He had immediately agreed to meet her, and now she was waiting in the visitors' room. He pressed the buzzer on his desk and his secretary opened the door and stepped aside to let a tall, slender, and certainly not tom-boyish creature come in.

The lawyer stood up and cleared his throat. This couldn't be Cagalli Yula Athha, the little girl with the messy plait! He shook his head, and as though she knew his thoughts, the rose-pink mouth in front of him curved into a smile, and the large amber eyes visibly lightened to the color of pools of warm honey. Oh yes, the thought hastily, this was undoubtedly the same child—women, he amended to himself, and held out his hand.

"Delighted to see you, Miss Athha. Please, sit down."

With ungainly grace, learned from her childhood as royalty and her many years in finishing school, she did so. He noted with approval that she did not cross her legs, but sat demurely, hands folded in her lap. But there was nothing demure in the confident tilt of the head of the long stem of the neck, nor in the look that flashed from her steely amber eyes.

"You haven't changed, Mr. Howard," she said rather politely. "You are exactly as I remember you."

"_You_ aren't." She smiled at this, laughing a little, showing small, pearly white teeth. Beautiful, he thought, a truly beautiful young woman. He had not expected this much to turn out from the scrawny, tom-boyish twelve year old he had escorted to Copernicus City all those years ago. She had aged well and bloomed beautifully. It was a shame she was no longer royalty, for her looks certainly played the part well. "I take it you received my letter?" he said.

"That's why I'm here." She took a cheque from her handbag and placed it on the metal desk. "Please send this back to the Chairman."

"But it was a gift for your twenty-first birthday." The lawyer looked askance. "And also from your graduation from Sorbonne. You know the Chairman himself graduated from that school—"

"I happen to see it as the Chairman's conscience money," she said cutting him off. "From now on, he will have to learn to live with his guilt."

"The Chairman has done nothing for which he need feel guilty," the lawyer instantly rhymed off, echoing the late Chairman's sentiments. However, he promptly held his tongue and waited for the young girl's response. Coldly, she regarded him.

"The way he behaved towards my father was—"

"Exemplary. No one could have done more than the late Chairman once he discovered your father had been wrongfully accused. As a political ally, he understood this and did everything in his power to right your fathers' name."

"What about the way he behaved when he thought my father had been embezzling from ORB's defense finances and accused him of planning an attack on the PLANTs? They had been friends for years, yet without any warning, he went to the United Nations and accused him of criminal behavior!"

The lawyer frowned as this and decided to choose his next words very carefully. Friends might not have been the best way to describe the relationship between the late Chairman and the former Representative of ORB. The nation of ORB and the PLANTs had been in a very aloof truce since the young princess had been born, and due to the long standing peace between the two countries, the media had portrayed the Chairman and Uzumi Nara Athha has friends. However, this was as far from the truth as possible. The late Chairman, a callous, yet powerful man disliked the Representative of ORB as he did most of the Naturals on Earth. However, the Representative gave the Chairman no reason to warrant his full out political power against his country, seeing as ORB was small, defenseless and most importantly, neutral. To secure ORBs neutrality after the One Year War, the former Representative and the Chairman signed a treaty agreeing to if either country was attacked by an aggressor country, they would stay clear of said countries affairs and would not intervene unless said aggressor country was to attack the opposing party's country as well. The main purpose of this was to avoid an all out Inter-galactic war between the PLANTs, the Earth Alliance and ORB. ORB had similar treaties with the Earth Alliance, and thus peace was maintain between the three major countries.

So to classify the former Representative and the Chairman as friends? No, they certainly weren't friends. Political allies, yes. Friends, no.

"The Chairman was forced to do it," he said rather calmly. "There were other people involved—many of them—and they wouldn't allow him to keep quiet. The safety of the citizens of the PLANTs were at risk and it was his duty as the Chairman of ZAFT to keep that safety. He had no choice in the matter."

"Well, I do have choice," the girl said hotly. "So please return this money and tell the Chairman he can never make amends for the way he destroyed my father."

"It is not the same Chairman of ZAFT," the lawyer idly said. "He resigned some years ago. Shortly after, he died after the Second Battle of Jachin Due during the Bloody Valentines War. His son took up his fathers mantel and has been paying for your education ever since. Surely you were aware of this?"

Angrily she stood. "No," she almost shouted. "I was not! You should have told me!"

The lawyer looked perturbed by the girls recent statement. Surely she was joking. How could she not be aware of the resignation and the death of the former Chairman? It had been all over the news. Was she simply ignorant to the recent political world or was she simply playing dumb? He sighed.

"What difference would it have made?" he finally asked. "The present Chairman considers himself as responsible as his father for your wellbeing."

"I'm no one's responsibility now!" she said hotly. "I have my degree and I'm ready to start work. When you write the Chairman, I would like you to tell him I will repay every penny he spent on my education."

"He will never accept repayment," he said instantly. "Besides, don't you think it childish to consider doing so?"

"Because he's rich as Croesus?" she spat bitterly, making reference to the historical king of Lydia. She came close the desk. "That doesn't alter the way I feel. I hate him and everything he stands for. His wealth, his power, and his ability to build up a man then destroy him. You can't imagine the pleasure it will give me when I personally throw that money back in his face!"

The lawyer stared at her, disquieted by such bitterness and stubbornness.

"It's a great deal of money for you to save. By the time you have done so, I hope you will have changed your mind." Her schooling had been expensive, far more then the girl could probably ever hope to imagine. He wondered if she knew the magnitude of the task she was hoping to accomplish.

She shook her head, then bent to touch a slender finger to a fuchsia that bloomed on the desk. The color was so vivid that it over empowered every other piece of décor in the room. She guessed it was genetically altered, like everything else around here. Unknowing to the young women, a shaft of sunlight aureolled her head, giving her the look of a Botticelli angel, for she had the same rounded forehead and softly curving cheeks. But it was her hair that completed the final illusion, being the same rich shade of gold that the famous Baroque artist had always loved.

"Your hair…" he said slowly. "Why keep it so short when surely it would look equally, if even more so lovely if you grew it out?" The lawyer had hoped to flatter her if possible, and perhaps make her resilent attitude more relenting.

She smiled, wistfully at first, but slowly it turned into a malevolent look of reprimand.

"Lovely you say?" She scoffed. "By experience I can tell you that women with longer hair are often vain and somewhat self-involved with the wrong ideals. Appearance is not important, Mr. Howard. My hair will not empower the idea that I am a weak, self-involved woman too futile to look after herself. I am not some princess in need of saving."

The lawyer did not miss the bitterness in her words as she mentioned the word "princess", a former title she no longer had. Then, without another word, she held out her hand. "Thank you for seeing me. It was nice to meet you again."

He took her hand and glanced at the cheque in front of him.

"I do wish you would reconsider what you are doing, Miss Athha. Twenty thousand Euros would make a nice nest egg if it were wisely invested."

"No, thank you. The Chairman's generosity towards my schooling was quite enough, thank you." She went to the door.

"Where can I get in touch with you?" he asked.

"I'm at the Saint Jeromes Women's Hostel in ORB," she said with a sugary smile plastered across her face. She seemed proud of the fact that after her time spent on the moon she would finally be returning to her home country. "It will do until I can afford a decent apartment."

"If you used the money—"

"No," she said firmly, and closed the door behind her to cut short any further comment from him.

With a sigh, he picked up the cheque. It was made out in the Chairman's firm handwriting. Athrun Zala. Regretfully, Mr. Howard drew a sheet of paper towards him. When contacting the Chairman, he always penned the letter himself. He paused, and then wrote quickly. There was no point being flowery about. The Chairman had a concise mind and saw through verbosity.

"_Miss Athha is unwilling to accept any further financial help from you,"_ he began. "_She feels you have done more than enough for her already. She is well educated--thanks to your generosity—and has made the most of the opportunities you have given her. Added to this, she is personable and intelligent and will, I am sure, go far in whatever profession she enters. I do not feel you need to worry about her any longer."_

That should do the trick, Mr. Howard thought, and signed his name at the bottom of the page. Happily, he had no precognition of the consequences his letter would set in motion.


	2. Chapter 2

**Chapter 2**

"Visitor for you, Cagalli."

It was the voice of the receptionist at the hostel and her words were accompanied by a knock on the door of Cagalli's bedroom; if the word 'bedroom' could be applied to a space little bigger then a cubicle. But it was cheap to rent and meant she could save most of her salary. At the rate she was going, she could have more than seven thousand dollars by the end of the year. No doubt it was peanuts in the Chairman's terms, but it required considerable sacrifice of her part.

"Cagalli!" The receptionist called again. "Have you forgotten your visitor?"

"It's only my date," she called back. "I told him not to be here until seven, but he always comes too early." Silly Ahmed, she thought with some agitation. Hurriedly, she finished dressing and holding her jacket and bag, ran down to the hall and flung open the door of the visitors' room. It was a little bigger than her cubicle and it was dwarfed by the man who turned from the window at her entrance.

Expecting Ahmed's tanned and smiling face, she was surprised to be confronted by a stern-faced stranger. He met her glance with a disregard that indicated he was used to being stared at, which was not surprising, for he was the handsomest man she had seen. His hair was a dark azure blue color—more black that blue—though a few strands seemed to mimic the color of the ocean on a bright summers day. If his skin were anything to go by, he could be a statue, like Michelangelo's _David_, for it was almost the same alabaster color of marble and was made to look vivid with his brilliant emerald-green eyes. His pale coloring lessened the patrician air of his precisely cut features, but as his head moved and she saw his profile, she was struck by the pure lines of his long, narrow nose and tightly-closed mouth, the top lip beautifully curved. The features were so perfect that they would have been effeminate had it not been for the hard tautness of the muscles controlling them and the firm line of the cheekbone turned nearest to her. Instantly, she knew by his god-like, statuesque appearance that he was one of them, a Coordinator. No one natural came by such perfect, awe inspiring beauty. However, she could be wrong, but she highly, highly, doubted it. All in all, she thought, he was a man who once met, would not easily be forgotten.

He came forward, hand outstretched. The skin was smooth and the fingers long.

"Miss Athha?"

"Yes," she said, and her hand was taken in a brief grip and then instantly released. Despite his breathtaking good looks, there was nothing sensual in his make-up, she decided, as he put as much distance between them as possible. For speculation only, she decided to guess at his heritage. English, perhaps? However his coloring and impeccably tailored suit dictated otherwise.

"Permit me to introduce myself," he said in a melodious voice. "I am Chairman Athrun Zala."

Cagalli stared at him. For years she had envisaged the time when she would confront the Chairman and throw the money he had expended on her back at him. But now that she was face to face with him, she was at a loss for words.

"_You!_" she gasped.

"At your service," he said chuckling rather lightly.

"I don't need your service," she said instantly. "I thought I had already made that plain."

"You have. And that is why I have come to see you." He glanced around. "If you would be so good as to sit down."

Because her legs were shaking, she did as he said, and the next moment he sat down too. It brought their eyes on a level and his green ones searched her face as if trying to guess her thoughts.

"You are different from what I expected," he said.

"So are you." As his brose rose, she add: "You don't have horns."

"Horns?" His brows continued to rise. "Is that how you think of me, then—as the devil?"

"Did you expect me to think otherwise? It was your accusations that sent my father to prison."

"My father's accusations," he corrected. "But anyone in similar circumstances would have done the same. All the evidence pointed to your father's guilt."

"He was proved innocent!"

"Only by the greatest good luck," the Chairman said with a caliginous expression masking his face.

"And your bad luck," she said. "You've been living with a guilty conscience ever since," she spat.

"At the time, Miss Athha, everything pointed to your father's guilt."

"Nothing pointed to it!" she cried. "Your father knew mine since they were twenty: young successors to a volatile political world! My father made the name of Zala a respectable, well-trusted name within his country of Orb. Did you honestly think him capable of ruining the peace between the two alliances in order to make himself some extra money? He lived for the sake of this nation's wellbeing! The safety and idyllic protection of ORBs citizens was a sacred trust the people had placed to him—it was almost an obsession—yet your family believed that he—"

"Our family wasn't alone in believing him to be guilty," the man interrupted. "The jury from the UN thought so too. The only pity is that by the time his innocence was proved, it was too late. That was why we did all we could to ensure that _your_ life lacked nothing."

"_Money!_" She spat out the word. "Did you think money could compensate me for losing my father? What a fool you are!"

Abruptly, the Chairman pushed back his chair. It was his only sign of temper, for when he spoke his voice was still quiet.

"You are more bitter than I realized. It is understandable, of course…"

"Then if you understand, you will go," she spat. She was standing too, half-turned towards the door to give strength to her words. He took no notice of them and remained where he was, the fine lines of his brown drawn together.

"Until now you have never given any sign of the way you felt."

"I was biding my time," she replied callously.

"It shows intelligence. You have at least allowed yourself to have the benefit of an excellent education."

"One needs all the benefits on can get in order to achieve something in this life," she said cuttingly.

"You sound ambitious."

"I am."

"Then surely it would have been better for you to have kept the cheque? The more money you have at your disposal, the quicker you will achieve your ambitions."

"I can get to the top without any more help from you. I have qualifications of my own," she said tight-lipped.

"Yes, you have," he said softly, his eyes passing over her as thought he were appraising an _object de'art_. This was not what she had meant, but she did not consider it important to deny it.

"Please go, Chairman," she reiterated. "I have no more to say to you."

"Good," he said firmly. "Then that gives me the opportunity of saying _my_ piece! Please be seated again, Miss Athha. I am tired and would like to sit down myself. The trip to Orb from the PLANTs was rather tiring…"

Ungraciously, she obeyed and again he sat opposite of her. "As I said before," he began, "I understand your bitterness because my father carried his own bitterness and regret with him to the grave. If you could appreciate that, you would perhaps feel less bitter towards him."

Cagalli scowled. Smooth words from an even smoother politician.

"My only regret, Chairman," she said with an equal smoothness to her voice. " Is that he died and escaped his self-recrimination."

"Then you need put aside your regrets, Miss Athha. It isn't for my father alone that I have continued to be concerned for your welfare. I too have a burden of guilt. I was the one who first suspected your father of trafficking nuclear warheads through ORB, and it was my suspicions that caused the ZAFT forces to be called in. I can only tell you that given the same circumstances today, I would still do the same. What I did remains logical now, and if you could look at the case without prejudice, you would agree with me."

"I am my father's daughter, Chairman, I cannot be without prejudice!" she cried at him, loosing some of her control.

Then at least be without bitterness!" he said angrily, loosing his calm and collected composure. "Accept the regret of my family and allow us to continue to help you."

"I want not more of your dirty conscience money!" she spat bitterly in his face. His lower lip jutted forward and was then pulled back again. It was impossible for her to guess what he was thinking and thought instead of what she knew about him. It was all culled from newspapers and magazines, or course, for everything the Zala family did was news. It was the price they paid for fantastic wealth and the name they inherited. Since the French Revolution, the Zala family had been a power in France. It was a power that had quickly spread to the New World while still remaining strong in the old, and eventually spread to the outer-recesses of space when galactic colonization was made possible. The sons and daughters of the Zala line had married and prospered and increased the family ramifications until their wealth and power was such that they could save monarchies from toppling and governments from tumbling. Today, their influence was as far as controlling the military defense for the PLANTs, as seen evident by the position both Athrun and his father had procured as Chairman to ZAFT. It was quite possibly their power extended even more so, and was probably subtly pursued in manners quite unknown in order to extend a lengthy grasp over the ruling of the actual PLANTs themselves.

Athrun Zala was the only son of the most prominent member of the line, Patrick Zala, and like his ancestors, had taken his position in the financial empire they controlled, following also his late father's hobby of wine-growing. It was well known before the disaster at Junius Seven his father had quite the vineyards on the peaceful farming community. However, his estate was lost, alongside his wife, Eleanor, and the Zala family resumed business in the legendary wine-growing regions of France. It was a hobby which brought even more wealth to add to their already apocryphal fortune. At 18, Athrun had married Meer Campbell, a beautiful and equally illustrious socialite. Her death in a car crash three years later led to the public disclosure that the marriage had been a failure. Zala wealth had papered over the cracks of a disastrous union until the tragedy of death had uncovered it. A letter in her handbag—written to her husband and for some reason not left for him and the Chateau—was recovered by the police from the wreckage of the car. By accident or perhaps intention, it had fallen into the hands of a reporter, and within hours its contents had blazed the front pages of every national newspaper in the world: '_Zala heir deserted by unloving wife.'_ Meer, it seemed had loved well, if not wisely, but the recipients of her wandering affections had never included her husband.

Cagalli glanced at him from beneath her long lashes. Despite the raucous publicity, Athrun Zala had been the chief mourner at his wife's funeral; he had given her the same honour he would have given a genuinely loving and dutiful wife. He made no verbal reference to his feelings, through they had become apparent in the way he subsequently behaved. After a quiet year of mourning he had adopted a social pattern he had never followed before. Always famed for his hospitality, the many manors and mansions of the Zala name now dispensed it lavishly, mostly to beautiful women.

Athrun was now the Chairman, his father having resigned in old age and died within a year of his daughter-in-law, and though everyone expected the new Chairman to remarry, he had shown no signs of doing so. Over the years, it became an accepted fact—though it was never actually said—that he had vowed to remain free. At 25, Bitter at Meer's faithlessness, he appeared determained not to give his name to another woman. His body, most certainly, for in the past few years he had had his share of famed beauties—but never his name. A recent article about him had reported him saying he considered his personal freedom more valuable then his wealth, and Cagalli, remembering this, remembered how the Zala family had taken away her father's freedom. Surely there was some rough justice to be done to even the score? Before the question could arouse an answer, the Chairman spoke.

"When my father was dying he made me promise I would never forget the duty we owe your father, and which we tried to repay through you. But it seems we have not succeeded."

Again, Cagalli scowled. She felt his words to be spurious and threw them back in his face.

"Nothing you did could compensate me for my father's death. You must have had a very peculiar upbringing if you believe an expensive boarding school and a university degree can replace love and affection!" Anger overrode her control. "I would have been happier in a one-room home filled with filth and squalor with someone who loved me rather then live in the soulless institution where you made me spend my life! I would even have been happier in the orphanage! At least all the children there were the same as me—natural and unwanted by anyone else. The children at the school in Copernicus City were cruel. I have nothing agaisnt Coordinators, as my fathers teachings were wise and just, however I felt the prejudice of your kind while attending _your_ prestigous school. And you spent money on me, Chairman, because it was the cheapest thing you could give. But children consider love to be more valuable, and that is something you and your family know nothing about! I'm not surprised your wife left you. I'm only surprised she stayed with you as long as she did!"

"You know nothing of my wife!" He was on his feet, towering tall and seeming taller because of his anger.

"I only know she wanted to be free of you, the way _I_ want to be free!" she spat.

"At least freedom is a word I word I understand." He was in control of himself again, but he remained standing. "To owe nothing to no one, to be your own master, is a desire I can understand. Of all the things my heritage has given me, I regard personal freedom as the most valuable. I fought freely in the wars for that freedom. That is why I want to put an end to the bitterness you feel to me and my family. Until I have, I will feel guilty towards you."

"Then you will have to learn to live with it," she said in borne stubborness. "The way _I_ have learned to live with bitterness."

"You cannot live your life motivated by hatred, Miss Athha. You are too young to think such things. I know what bitterness can do to a person. I lived with it for years and…" He stopped, his face pale. "It is something I have never spoken of, and I only do so now in the hope that I can make you understand that nothing can corrode one's spirit more than hatred. You are young and beautiful and you should face the future without a care. If you do not wish to take any further help from me, at least accept the fact that we have tried to make amends for what we did."

This passionate, pleading man was so different from the aloof man he had first seemed to her that she found it hard to relate the two. Had she not known of his tragic marriage and about the untimely death of his mother, she would not have understood what he meant, but because she did know she was able to see why it was important for him to have her forgiveness. All the money in the world could not stop his mother's death from happening, or Meer's epitaph from faithless wife to a loving one. It was a smirch on the Zala name that could never be eradicated. But the smirch of a faithless friend and ally—which her father had hurled at Athrun's father—was one that the Zala family obviously wished to remove. And they were doing it in the only way they knew how: by using their money to absolve themselves of guilt and remorse. The temptation to let them do so, to tell this handsome embittered man that he could go away and sleep easy at night, was a great one, but Cagalli had lived with her hatred of the Zala family too long to easily discard it, and it remained within her like a corrosive acid.

"Try to forgive and forget," the Chairman continued. "It is the only way to be free."

How important he considered his freedom! His eyes glowed like green flames when he spoke the word. Watching him, a tentative idea stirred in her mind. Slowly, it rose to the surface, filling her with such triumph that she gave a little cry. She had vowed to avenge her father's tragedy and had always known the torment of her inability to do so. What could a puny girl, stripped of all her nobility and wealth do against a family such as the Zala's? Yet Athrun had given her the answer. He had put into her hands the very weapon she was seeking.

"And if I cannot forget the way you destroyed my father?" she asked, her eyes burning with fueled intensity of hatred. "If I go on hating you for the rest of my life, and never forgiving you for what you've done, then what will you do then?"

"Keep trying to make you change your mind." He went quiet for a few moments, contemplating his next words. "Perhaps we should have seen you when you were a child, and not left you to be brought up alone. My mother suggested it before her death, but that was quite some time ago. My father was rather reluctant. He felt it was better to try and let you forget everyone who had been associated with the trial."

"You thought the same," she accused.

"As long as you were a child. But I am here now."

"Too late," she gritted through bared teeth.

"No," he said firmly. "It is never too late to learn compassion. I have learned the the hard way. My mother's death showed me that... I will do everything within my power to eradicate the hatred you feel for us."

"Anything?" she asked with curiosity.

"Yes."

"Evening giving up your freedom?"

"My freedom?" He looked genuinely puzzled. "What does that have to do with it?"

"I'll tell you," she said quickly. "When my father was imprisoned, everyone turned against him, even our relations with the other noble families in Orb. I vowed then that I would never let myself care about anyone again. Unfortunately, hating someone is as much as a tie as loving them. So I want to put an end to it too."

"Thanks heavens for that!" he exclaimed. He looked genuinely happy to see her say such words. However, she was not done.

"And the only way I can do it," she went on, 'is to take from you the one thing you value most—the way you and your father took away what I valued most. For me it was my father, for you it is your freedom. Give me your freedom, Chairman, and I will give the Zala family absolution!"

He paled so visibly that his already fair complexion left his skin, making him look like a ghost. "Surely you cannot mean marriage?" he asked tersely.

"I do," she said malevolently. "It's an old principle, Chairman—an eye for an eye and a tooth for a tooth. That's what I'm asking for. Your life for my father's."

"No." It was a harsh sound. "Your demand is impossible."

"Then go away and live the rest of your life with your guilt. But double that guilt, for your family didn't only destroy my father's life, but mine as well." Although no longer a child responsible for the future of a nation, she spoke with the words of a passionate politican, readying to make her verbal attack against the people in order to sway their wills in her favor.

Silently, he stared at her, his face still ashen, his eyes—glittering like opaque emeralds cut from the finest stone—the only sign of color. Then, without a word he picked up his dark sunglasses, slipping them back over his face and shielding his eyes, and walked out of the room, closing the door quietly behind him.

Cagalli rested her head in her hands. Why had she made such a ridiculous demand? She must have been crazy. In this respect, the Chairman was right: bitterness and grief did destroy one's ability to live and to think normally. For the first time in her own life, she was beginning to realize it for herself.


	3. Chapter 3

**Chapter 3**

Cagalli looked at the glinting circle of blue white diamonds on the third finger of her right hand. She was Athrun's wife. Lady Cagalli Yula Zala, wife to the Chairman of ZAFT. It was an unnerving thought and momentarily panic superseded triumph. Then the diamonds glinted again and the panic dimmed. She had got what she wanted. Athrun was free no longer. Like her father, he was a captive.

The door behind her opened and the man in her thoughts came in: her husband of three hours. Again, she was overcome by panic and again fought it down. She had achieved what she wanted and there was no room for regret.

"Are you ready?" he asked.

She nodded and followed him across the hall to the front door. They were in the Zala apartments in the PLANT Januarius Five, a vast complex or rooms atop an ancient stone building in an ancient square near the courthouses. Cagalli had not had a chance to inspect her new home, nor the desire to do so. It had been somewhere to come after the civil ceremony that had made her Athrun's wife, and they had remained here—she alone in the enormous drawing room—he with his lawyers in some other remote part of the apartment, until they were due to leave for Aprilius One for a short business trip, and then to Zala's Chateau in France on Earth, which was to be her home for the next three months and three months of every year for the rest of her life.

"You may wish to remain there all year round" he had said when telling of it, "but I myself only stay there during the latter part of the wine season. Call it a vacation. I like to relax a little from my duties as the Chairmen and choose to spend my time on Earth. The rest of the year I spend between the PLANTs and various other cities in the Earth Alliance."

"I will go where you go," she replied and had enjoyed the look of fury—quickly dimmed--that had sparked in his eyes.

Quietly, she followed him into the elevator that descended slowly to the ground floor. In the courtyard a black sports car, long and gleaming, awaited them, a chauffeur in uniform holding open the door. The car would take them to the shuttles which would take them promptly to Aprilius One, then to Earth. The Chairman took the wheel, Cagalli slipped in beside him and the chauffeur closed the door and watched as they glided away.

"Is he staying in Januarius Five?" she asked.

"He will follow in another car, and take the shuttle with us to Aprilius One."

"Do you always drive yourself?"

"When I'm in the mood."

She wondered what mood he meant, for he drove with a controlled ferocity that slightly alarmed her. One touch on the accelerator and they would hurtle forward at a hundred miles per hour; one erratic turn of the finely balanced wheel and they would career across the road. But he did neither, and as the miles silently went by, her fear diminished. Shortly after, they arrived at the shuttle space-ports and took an elite, private shuttle towards Aprilius One. They arrived within a few hours, and after another short few hours in which Athrun conducted business within ZAFT, they departed on another private shuttle towards Earth.

Soon, the PLANTs were left behind them and they arrived in the Earth's in a short amount of time, docking in Paris a mere 10 hours after all the distance they had traversed. Again, Athrun drove. The city of Paris was soon out of sight and the motorway stretched ahead of them. It was then the car came into its own, leaping forward like a wild animal, its powerful engine a subdued roar beneath the roadway. After a couple of hours, the speedometer needle lowered and Cagali was aware of the man beside her relaxing slightly, as if some of his tension—and possibly temper—had been dissipated by concentration. But his body remained upright, his head titled back slightly, the angle as proud as ever. She had not had such an opportunity to study him and she saw that his hair grew long on the nape of his neck, the ends darker, like the few strands that fell across his forehead and swept across his face. He had beautiful shaped ears, the tips slightly pointed. Was that a sign of intuition or did it signify humor? He had displayed neither since they had met. Still, she had not given him the chance to be either. She sighed. He could not maintain his reserve indefinitely; sooner or later he would have to accept the fact that she was his wife and intended to remain so. But for how long? She ignore the question, not only unable to answer it, but also unwilling for she was afraid of the outcome.

"How much further to the Chateau?" he asked.

"Another couple hours."

"I hadn't realized it was so far from Paris. Isn't there an airport nearby?"

He nodded. "I generally fly down."

"Your own plane, I suppose?" she said with unintentional sarcasm.

"Yours too, now."

His reply squashed her and she fell silent. Unable to guess what lay ahead in her future, she started to think of the past. Not the distant past, because that was always too painful, but the immediate one, since Athrun Zala had astounded her by agreeing to the demand she had made of him the night he had visited her in the hostel.

After he had stormed out, she had not anticipated hearing from him again. She had expected Mr. Howard to contact her and try to return the Chairman's cheque, or even talk to her in the hope of succeeding where his client had failed. Instead, she had received a short note from the Chairman himself, penned in his own hand on thick paper. _'I will do as you have demanded," _he had written, and signed it simply _'Zala'_.

Had any girl received such a cold agreement to a marriage? she asked herself, and glanced at him from the corner of her eye. But it would have been stupid to have expected more. In all honesty, she had never thought to get as much; certainly never that he would agree to make her his wife. But he had. He had made all the arrangements, overcame all the legal difficulties that occurred in a marriage of mixed nationalities and race and, three weeks after that night in the hostel, she had flown to Januarius Five, and in a quiet room in a quiet town suburb, a fussy little judge had made them man and wife.

"Do you have any brothers or sisters?" she asked now, curious to know whom she would have to face at the Chateau.

"No."

"So you're an only child?"

"Yes."

"And your mother; she died in the Junius Seven tragedy?" she asked slowly as though to confirm the facts.

"Yes," he said through tight-lips with a rigid jaw. She could tell by his facial expressions the subject was a touchy one. Before she could say anything else, he began again. "If you are interested in the Zala family tree," he went on coldly, "you will find several books on the subject in the library at the Chateau."

She took to the offensive.

"I could care less about your family tree," she replied. "You are the only branch I'm interested in."

"It is a barren branch," he replied rather drily.

"I take it you don't mean that as a pun?"

For an instant he did not follow, then his mouth twitched, though it was more a movement of irritation than humour. Did he think she was insinuating that his first marriage had failed because of sexual inadequacy? Such an idea had not occurred to her until now, but thinking it over, she found it hard to believe. The way he had behaved since his first wife's death was not indicative of a man lacking in virility. It spoke more for a man who had had his love thrown back in his face than for one who had not been able to love at all. But if Meer had not loved him, why had she married him? She had been wealthy in her own right: poor by the comparison with the Zala billions, but certainly having no need to marry for a reason other than love.

Again, Cagalli glanced at the man beside her. He was so handsome and well-known that many women would be willing to marry him, if only to bear his name. Yet surely Meer had had some feeling for him when she had agreed to become his wife? Even if one took away his great name and wealth, he had a great deal to offer in looks and personality alone. It was unfair that one man should have so much. Still, Cagalli thought triumphantly, in marrying me he has lost the one thing prized above all: his freedom. She had lost hers too, of course, but that did not matter. Nothing mattered except the alleviation of the bitterness she had lived with for so many years, and which lay within her like a deep pool of gall.

"What is the nearest town to the Chateau?" she asked, wishing to concentrate on something else.

"Pithiers. It is small but thriving."

"Is the Chateau near the river? I'm not sure whether it's called the Garonne or the Gironde." She fumbled with the names despite her ability to understand French fluently. She blamed it on her nerves. Admittedly, she knew neither and had only learned the names when she had been listening to Athrun earlier on his cell phone.

"We are between both of them," he replied. "The greatest claret-producing vineyards lie in the land between the two rivers." He slowed down to allow a herd of cattle to meander across the road. They had left the motorway and were on a minor road that curved gently between grassy fields. "I thought you would know where the best wines came from," Athrun suddenly said. "Didn't you father tell you? I heard he was a great connoisseur of wines himself."

She hesitated. No one had spoken of her father for years and she found it difficult to talk normally of him. Aware that she was clenching her hands, she moved them apart and said casually: "I was only a little girl at the time. However, wine culture was so much a part of his life that he took it for granted that I knew everything about it too. I could tell a good vintage from a bad one, but I didn't now how it was made. I am looking forward to finding that out at the Chateau."

"My wine steward will tell you what you wish to know," he said regarding her coolly. It was a cold offer, but she did not expect much more from him. Had she been in his place, she would not even have made that. How he must hate her! However, she equally hated him, so she supposed it was a fair trade…she shivered and felt him glance her way.

"Are you cold?" he asked.

She shook her head. No, she wasn't cold in the slightest.

"Just realizing the change that has taken place in my life," she softly, more to herself then the man sitting next to her. She felt dejected almost. Lonely.

"It is of your own making," he said, almost cruelly.

"You hate me, don't you?" she asked impulsively, unable to hold her own tongue. She glared at him and waited for an answer.

"No," he said coldly. "I told you once before, Cagalli, that the two emotions that corrode the soul are envy and hatred. I refuse to feel either."

"But you do hate me," she replied blithely. "I can feel it. You didn't have to agree to our marriage, Athrun. I didn't hold a gun to your head!"

"You held one to my soul," he snapped at her, his words harsh and biting.

Again, he shriveled her with his reply and she turned sharply away from him and stared through the window. She was tired of sitting in one position and wished he had suggested they stop for a drink somewhere. But he seemed intent on reaching the Chateau as quickly as possible, and knowing they couldn't be far now, she closed her eyes and forced herself to relax.

"We are nearly there."

The quiet, melodious voice brought her back to the present and she sat up and glance through the window. They were driving through the centre of what appeared to be a vast vineyard, with row after row of vines stretching on either side of them, bright green against the rich brown earth. Each row was so straight it looked like a line of soldiers and it was easy to imagine oneself surrounded by an army of troops in bright green uniforms, similar to that of the ZAFT army. She guessed they were on the Zala estate and wished she had been awake to see the beginning of it. There must be hundreds of acres of land here, probably thousands. The avenue ahead of them stretched into infinity, its end lost in a haze of green. But as they drove steadily onwards the haze had dissolved to form itself into wrought iron gates, behind which she glimpsed the four twin towers of the Chateau, its white stone shimmer like marble in the slanting rays of the setting sun.

"Where is the wine made and stored?" she compulsively asked, out the sake for sudden conversation, and followed his pointing hand to see another chateau of shimming stone a few hundred yards to the left of the main one. It was smaller and less ornate and looked as if it had been built during the present century.

"We have some old wine cellars underground," Athrun informed her, "but all the new ones are at surface level and insulated. Wine cellars don't need to be buried anymore."

She listened silently, and vowed to learn all she could on the subject, determined to surprise this coldly condemning man with her knowledge. They reached the heavy, wrought iron gates, and a white-coated servant opened them, his face wreathed in a smile.

Athrun greeted him and then drove along a graveled road to stop at a massive arched door set in a smooth stone wall between the east and west turret. At close hand the turrets were like conical shaped hats and gave the Chateau a quaint mediaeval look. It was far bigger than she had imagined, and she shivered again, afraid, but attempting to be mentally prepared for all she had done herself in for.

Another servant hurried forward to open the car door and she jumped out. How many people did Athrun employ here? she wondered, staring bemused as men in white and maroon jackets seemed to rush at her from all sides. There were quick greetings in French and she was glad she could understand the language without having to translate it in her head first. It was almost as if her education had premeditated her plans. Maybe Athrun had thought this too, thought so far he had not said so.

It seemed he was far more animated than she had ever seen him, chatting easily in French to his servants, who were cheerfully congratulating them both on their marriage. These were people who had all served Meer. It was a disquieting thought, but it put Cagalli on the offensive, giving her courage to face their curious glances with equanimity. She was used to being stared at, first for being the daughter of the Representative, then as the daughter of a criminal, and now as the wife of the Chairman of ZAFT.

Athrun was already walking into the hall, pausing on the threshold to wait for her to join him.

"Welcome to the Zala Chateau, darling" he said briefly, and as she saw the servants smile she knew he intended to pretend their marriage was a normal one. It was something she had not thought to ask him, knowing he would make no emotional demands on her, a fact he had coldly stated when he had come to see her in ORB to arrange their marriage.

"In the eyes of the world, you will be my wife, but in my eyes you are a woman who has demanded repayment of a debt my family owes you. You will appreciate that we can never be friends," he had said in a very business-like manner.

She had accepted his statement without question, but now, moving over to join him, she saw how difficult his public and private persona were going to be: alone with her, he would ignore her and make callous remarks; in front of others we would pretend that they were a happy, normal couple. It all seemed quiet stressful, if not the least a bit paining.

"Well, darling," he was speaking again. For a moment, it almost sounded as if he had forced him self to spit out the last part. The word 'darling' sounded gritted against his white teeth, almost as if the act was tedious and annoying. However, his facade quickly rectifyied itself and he continued on. "Do you like your new home?"

Silently, she stared around her. She had spent several hours in Athrun's apartment on Januarius Five, but had felt a stranger there. Yet in this chateau, she experienced a sense of home-coming, mostly because the atmosphere reminded her of her childhood home in the Nara Mansion back on ORB.

The vast hall, marble-floored and hung with tapestries, led into an endless number of rooms, many of which functioned as offices of one kind or another for the various section managers of the estate. The first floor, reached by a curving iron staircase, its iron balustrade so delicately wrought into a pattern of trees and flowers that the very leaves themselves seemed to tremble as one walked past them, led to the main reception rooms. There was a rectangular salon of immense proportions and a smaller one for the family use. An ornate library whose walls were lined with white and gold bookcases crammed with leather-bound volumes led into two dinner rooms, one for banquets of fifty people or more and other capable of seating a minimum of twenty and large enough to hold a normal suburban house. The furniture in every room was elaborate, most of it French, but with some English and Italian pieces. Priceless paintings caught the eye wherever one turned, and Cagalli, recognizing many of them, could not credit that they were real. For who expects to see Rembrandts, Fantin le Tours and Courbets outside an art gallery?

The smaller reception room was furnished in a more personal way, with several velvet-covered settees, some dozen armchairs in pastel brocades and countless occasional tables masked by long, richly embroidered cloths. Each table top was bedecked with a different kind of collection. The paintings here seemed to indicate the style of the last few heads of the Zala household, as they were significantly more modern. On either side of the marble mantelpiece hung two simply mounted Henry Moore drawings, while on the table close by stood a beautiful Matisse sculpture of the body of a woman. Without being told, Cagalli knew these three items were her husbands personal choice. Her husband. The words were alien, as was the man whom they fitted, and she stiffened as she became aware of his eyes on her.

"Overwhelmed?" he drawled expressionlessly, as if he was bored by her very presence.

"Why should I be?" she suddenly snapped. "I grew up in a household similar to this until I was robbed of my birthright by greedy politicians and cruel men of the law. May I remind you my father was a frequent visitor to this particular Chateau on business meetings involving your father—"

"Be quiet!" Athrun's voice was harsher than she had ever heard it. "You have insisted on me marrying you, and I in turn insist that we talk no more of the past."

"If you are asking me to forget my father—"

"I am asking that you curb your bitterness and hold your tongue. My life is going to be difficult enough without constantly being reminded of the guilt my family bears." His face grew harder. "We destroyed a politicians life and that of his daughters. But that aside, this was the reason for our marriage—to absolve the guilt." He made an effort to become calm. "I will arrange for you to be shown to your room," he said, and must already have rung for a servant, because the door opened as he spoke and white-coated man stood there. "Please show the Lady to her apartments."

Enraged, she felt as though he was dismissing her.

"Aren't you coming with me, _darling_?" Cagalli asked in the sweetest tone.

"I will follow in a few moments, dearest," he said at once, without looking in the slightest discomforted.

Awarding him full marks for his suave behavior, she gave in and obliged to following the servant to the next floor, although was not without huff and walked down an endless corridor to the west wing. Here she found an enchanting suite of rooms: a huge circular bedroom which was set beneath one of the four turrets of the Chateau; a bathroom with a sunken bath large enough in which to swim several strokes and one of the loveliest little sitting-rooms she had ever seen. The walls were draped in powder blue silk and small gilt armchairs and settees were covered in rose velvet. A blue and gold Venetian glass chandelier and matching table lamps shone on several small religious paintings that would have done the Vatican in Rome proud, while between the windows that overlooked the vineyards hung a group of icons inset with rubies, emeralds and sapphires.

In her bedroom again, Cagalli saw a maid unpacking her cases, the contents of which barely filled a quarter of the dressing-room cupboards built to the house the Lady's clothing. Guessing this to be on of the main suites, Cagalli wondered if Athrun's first wife had occupied it. There was no sign of anyone having use it, but then there would be no sign of her own presence when she eventually left. When would that be? She shied away from the question, but it continued to gnaw at her. Her desire for revenge had got her into this marriage without giving thought to what its outcome would be. Was she content to live the rest of her life in a loveless union and to die barren and untouched, or would she, like so many rich society women, find solace with lovers? She remembered as a child how her father had been planning on arranging a marriage with fellow members of the noble households. However, all plans were abruptly discarded upon his incaeration. She had not considered such possibilities, such as lovers or remaining lonely until her dying days until this very moment, and even now it did not hold any reality to her. Though hardened by the blows which fate had dealt her, she still yearned to meet a man who would sweet her off her feet; who would shower her with his love and shield her with his strength. Yes, Cagalli Yula Zala was a true romantic at heart.

Was that the love Athrun had had for Meer? So deep a love that her faithlessness had made it impossible for him to love again?

"Would the Lady care to have her bath now?"

Cagalli swung around to see a middle-aged woman. Unlike the younger maid who had unpacked for her, she did not wear the maroon uniform of the other staff at the Chateau, but a long-sleeved navy dress with white collar cuffs.

"That sounds like an excellent idea," Cagalli smiled. "But who are you?"

"Your personal maid, Anne-Marie." A curtsey accompanied the words. "I hope I will give satisfactory service. I am a trained beautician and of course will take care of the Lady's wardrobe."

Cagalli longed to know if Anne-Marie had been Meer's maid too, but knew it would be tactless to ask. However, the thought that the woman turning on the taps to fill the sunken bath had performed similar tasks to the woman Athrun had loved gave her a sense of pique that caused discretion to evaporate.

"How long have you been at the Chateau?" she asked, coming into the bathroom.

"I came here thirty years ago, when I was fifteen. Five years later I became maid to the First Lady of the House, the present Chairman's mother, and I remained with her until her death several years ago."

"That was after…" Cagalli's voice trailed away, but the women looked knowing.

"The Chairman's mother died in the unfortunate attack on Junius Seven where she so happened to spending her time at the Zala Estate. A tragedy for the whole family really: the current Chairman was merely a lad, and it was soon after that he enlisted in the ZAFT Elite Forces."

Cagalli looked at the water flowing into the bathtub.

"I take it you—that you knew the—my husband's first wife?" she asked, proceeding with caution.

"Not too well. She did not spend much time here: a few weeks at the height of the season, no more than that. I believe she found it too quiet. Always the one for the limelight, she was."

"Too quiet?" Cagalli echoed, and glance out the window.

It was already dusk, but the narrow, straight roads intersecting the thousands of hectacres around them were lit by small lights which glimmered through the trees, while the grounds nearest the Chateau were skillfully turning into a radiance caused by the delicate and skilful floodlighting which had none of the harshness normally associated with such a form of lighting that gave the landscape the shimmer of a full moon, so realistic that it was difficult to know where nature ended and artifice began.

"I can't imagine anyone finding it too quiet here," she mumbled quietly. "It's like a bit of heaven."

"The Lady has been here before?"

"No." Cagalli flushed. "But the moment I stepped into the hall, I felt as if I had. It reminds me of…" she trailed off, unsure of how to explain herself to the old-women. "Home I guess," she finally summarized. "I suppose you find that strange?"

The old women laughed.

"It is only strange because the Chairman's mother once told me she had the same feeling when _she_ first came here. She was partly Asian, you must know."

That accounted for Athrun's such pale coloring, which was so unusual for a French-men. Or so she assumed he was French. It seemed France was where all his families wealth had originated from, so she could only assume. In fact, she barely knew anything about Athrun's family. Perhaps it would be wise to actually look up upon those books he had mentioned to her about his family tree in the library.

"Does my husband look like his mother?" Cagalli asked curiously.

"He has her hair," she said sweetly. "And perhaps some of her femininity. But in every other respect, the Chairman takes after his father. However, how I am to judge? He is after all a Coordinator. For all I know, being the old-women I am, his looks have nothing to do with his heritage."

The words automatically re-awakened Cagalli's bitterness. Her expression indicated her change of mood and the maid, assuming herself to be in disfavour of gossiping, silently buised herself setting out scented bath oil and a vast, fleecy toweling.

"And are you a Coordinator?" Cagalli suddenly asked. The old women looked shocked by her question, but slowly nodded her head side to side.

"No," she responded with some resilience. "I am a Natural, child, just as you are." The room went quiet again and Cagalli readied herself for her bath.

"Does the Lady wish me to help her bath?"

"Oh...no, I--"

But before Cagalli could protest to anything else, the women had already stripped her of clothes and had whisked out of the room carrying the remanents of her outfit. She blushed feriously, as she now stood stark naked and exposed. People helping her undress? She was far too modest for this type of thing. And independent. It was all too elaborate and made her feel useless. She just was't the type of person who thrived on having ever whim catered to, no matter how tedious it seemed. No, she would definitely be declining the woman's services in the future. She remembered vaguely as a child servants helping her bath in the Nara household, ones that removed her clothes, others that bathed her and finally, some that helped her redress and put her to bed. However, that had been when she was quite young: a child of 4 or 5, and she had quickly put a stop to the whole thing once she was a of a decent age to be looking after herself. She was never one to rely on the help of others and even as a child was quite pig-headed and independent. She supposed all the maids had been in lieu of a mother, as Cagalli never really remembered having one. Her fathers wife had died when she was very young and she wondered if she had been alive during her time spent living at the Nara mansion if she would have up took such motherly duties upon herself.

With the feeling that she had stepped into some dream, Cagalli soaped herself and then plunged deeper into the white marble pool. So did the super-rich live, and now she Cagalli Yula Athha, no, Lady Cagalli Yula_ Zala_, was once again, one of them.


	4. Chapter 4

**Chapter 4**

Knowing that tonight she would be dining with Athrun for the first time since she had met him, Cagalli, with tremendous amounts of encouragement from her maid, finally decided on wearing one of her prettiest dresses. It was donned more to boost her morale than otherwise, because as far as she was concerned, it wouldn't have any effect on him. The fact of the matter was, she absolutely abhorred dresses to begin with, mostly due to the lack of movement they gave, and despite feeling fairly okay with her appearance, was nervous as hell due to her unusual attire. She was far more comfortable wearing loose fitting shirts and pants, however, considering her new life style, she wasn't sure if such clothing was appropriate anymore. The dress she now wore, she was sure, the cheapest dress to have hung in her tiny wardrobe, but she was also sure that the reflection staring back at her in the gilt-framed mirror was as beautiful as any it had ever held. On impulse, she had tied her hair back with tendrils of ribbon and had Anne-Marie weave a few sparse flowers through her golden hair. Nervous apprehension had darkened her amber eyes and made them look larger than usual, while the same apprehension had given pink to the skin that molded her cheeks. The look was fairly reminiscent of her style as a child, and she was she sure Athrun to think her equally childish for accessorizing her self the way she did.

When she entered the salon a few moments later, Athrun was already there. He too had changed, but not into the anticipated dinner jacket. Instead, he wore one of a dark blue brocade. It made his hair look almost midnight black, reminding her more of an Asian then a French-man. But he had none of the French's openness and looked rather broody and melancholy. It required little imagination to picture him a hundred years ago as the lord of the castle ruling it in a rather chauvinistic manner. The material of his jacket—if not the cut of it—would not have looked out of place there and she felt a strong pull of the past enveloping her. This whole home was ancient. However, when he spoke to her, his words were of the Cosmic Era.

"Do you wish for a cocktail, or would you prefer champagne?" he asked rather out of forced politeness then anything else.

"Do you have anything less…" she struggled for the words. She didn't particular enjoy drinking, however, wasn't sure how to put it.

"You may have what ever you wish," Athrun chimed in on cue. He looked positively medieval and seemed almost mocking in her dislike for alcoholic beverages."Anything you want; say it and it is yours."

She scowled and just in spite of it, asked for the champagne.

He took the bottle standing on the silver tray and filled two, tall, narrow crystal glasses. He handed one to her and took the second one for himself. She waited to see if he would make a toast, but he sipped in silence and annoyed with herself for having expected him to saying anything, Cagalli did the same.

"If there is anything you require in your apartment," he said after a moment, "please make your wishes know to your maid."

"Thank you," she replied stiffly. She moved over to a settee and sat down. There was no point waiting for Athrun to tell her to do so. From the look on his face, he would be more happy to have her lying at his feet so that he could walk on her. She remembered hearing stories of the dignified war-hero and how he was notorious for his kind and gentile manner. However, Cagalli thought quite silently to herself, she saw Athrun to be the farthest from said words and found his manner to be rude and brooding.

"How long will we be staying here?" she asked.

"Don't tell me you are bored already?"

Considering such a comment unworthy of a response, she took another large sip of her drink and remained silent.

"I generally stay until the grapes are picked and the first pressing is done," he finally said. "After which, I return to Aprilius One. However, you may return to the PLANTs any time you wish, or Copernicus City, or even Orb if you prefer it."

"Or hell," she muttered under her breath. It seemed however, her comment was not as discreet as she would have liked it to be as Athrun raised her brow and stared at her indefinitely.

"I believe we have a misunderstanding. It is not for me to suggest that you go to a place as uncomfortable as—as hell…" he said awkwardly. He seemed almost embarrassed that she would suggest such a thing. "I was merely suggesting that you might find a place like the PLANTs, or ORB more amusing."

"I find it more amusing to remain with you, Athrun dear," she said sweetly. "After all, we _have_ just gotten married."

His apparent remorse vanished and the glint in his eye signified his awareness of being baited, though he had too much self-control to show any annoyance. In silence, he replenished their glasses and settled him on a settee some distance away from her, slowly sipping his drink as he stared into space. Cagalli frowned. Was this what the rest of her life was to be like? Holding awkward conversation with a man she thoroughly disliked and drinking expensive champagne at his expense? Out of know where, she suddenly felt the faint curiosity to meet the ones who had been romantically linked to him in the past few years. Had all their experiences like this, or was it just with her? Many of them had had names as famous as his own…

"Why are you smiling?" he asked suddenly.

"I was thinking how the people will gossip when they hear you have finally re-married," she quickly covered. Heavens knows what he would have said if she told him she was thinking of his previous lovers. She stared down into her drink and quickly glanced back up at him.

Rather then reacting with temper, he regarded her steadily.

"There will be great curiosity about the woman who I tied myself to."

"Then I'll do my best not to disappoint them." She sipped from her glass. "I would like you to introduce me to your wine steward, Athrun, and also to tell where I can find the books I want."

"Books?"

"On wine," she explained. "I told you I wanted to learn about it."

"I didn't think you meant it."

"I never say anything I don't mean," she said coolly.

"Am I to infer then that you always mean what you say?"

"Let's just say I always try to be truthful."

"I have yet to meet a woman who even tries." His voice was harsh and she knew he had returned to the past; a habit he seemed to do frequently.

Before he could say any more, an elderly servant came in to say dinner was served. Athrun came forward to give her his arm, and under the discreetly watchful eye of the woman, they walked along the marble-floored corridor to the small dining room.

The table was round and set near the windows that overlooked the terrace. The room itself was austerely furnished, the floor marble and uncarpeted except for the circular rug on which the table and chairs stood. Although there were only the two of them, the entire table was elaborately arranged with posies of wild flowers and sprays of wheat, whose gold and yellow colouring echoed the color of Cagalli's hair.

"What an unusual table decoration," Cagalli commented as she sat down, although she had not meant the comment to be mean.

"We never use formal floral designs in the Chateau," he replied. "My mother stared the habit of only using wild flowers and Meer never bothered to alter it."

"Then neither will I," Cagalli declared. "Besices, it's so much prettier this way," she added as an after thought.

"Meer left if because she did not wish to concern herself with anything in the Chateau."

Cagalli subsided, feeling that yet another piece of the jigsaw that went to the make up of Meer had fallen into place. The only trouble was that she more clearly the picture formed, the less she liked it. And she wanted to like her predecessor. After all, Meer had made Athrun unhappy, so that at least should give them something in common. A small whole cantaloupe melon was set in front of her and she began to eat. The meal was elaborate. The melon was followed by quenelles pouched in champagne and this in turn was followed by medallions of veal on a bed of artichoke hearts. Vegetables were served as a separate course: thick asparagus spears glistening with melted butter and mounds of baby green peas intermingling with tiny shallots. By the time desert came in—a creamy concoction of _fraise des bois_ and meringue—she was so full she could not eat any of it. She felt slightly light-headed too, for a different wine had been served with each course, and eager to taste the fruits of her new home, she had sampled each one.

"I am sorry we were unable to serve claret tonight," Athrun said as they returned to the salon. A servant was with them to serve coffee and Cagalli assumed Athrun to be talking this way in order to maintain the charade he had insisted upon.

"It was a mistake of the chef," he went on, "not to have planned our first dinner so that I could at least have offered you my finest wines."

"I had my first taste of Zala Estate wine when I was five," Cagalli said with a smile. "But I remember saying I preferred Kisaka's warm milk better." Ledonir Kisaka had been Cagalli's private bodyguard since she had been a little girl, although she much treated him like a nurse-maid and made him do silly things like warm her milk when she as unable to sleep at night. The memory of the man made her smile and she stared appreciably down into her drink.

Unexpectly, Athrun laughed. It made him look younger and less forbidding and gave her an idea of how must have appeared in happier times.

"Maybe you still do."

Caught up in her own thoughts, she had lost the gist of the conversation.

"Do what?"

"Prefer warm milk to Zala Estate wine."

'I stopped being a philistine when I was six," she said firmly.

"Does that mean you will have a brandy now?"

Cagalli's stomach did a flip-flop at the very thought. She was already quite tipsy from all the wine and champagne she had had during supper and the thought of consuming more alcohol did not settle well in her even mind.

"That's something I haven't yet managed to acquire a taste for," she finally confessed. "I only drink it when I'm ill, and that's mostly to numb the sick feeling."

He looked up as the wine steward who had served them at dinner came in, carrying two balloon glasses.

"None for the Lady, Michel," he said. "She is not a brandy drinker."

"Another liqueur perhaps, mi'Lady?"

Cagalli shook her head, reluctant to admit that her head was still spinning from the wine she had consumed. From the way Athrun was watching her take up her coffee cup, she knew he was waiting to see if it would wobble. Full of defiance, if only to prove him wrong about her state of inebriation, carefully, she held it and sipped. The steward set a brandy glass on the table, spoke a few words to his master then went out. Silence consumed them. She tried to think of something to say, but whatever came into her mind she dismissed as being too idle for real conversation. But she was not content on just sitting here in boredom, ignoring each other until they died; she was Athrun's wife and she was not going to let him force her to live her life in limbo. If she did, she might just as well not have married him at all.

"What are you doing tomorrow, Athrun?"

Her question took him by surprise.

"I have to go through various papers with the managers of the vineyards, and then make a trip quick into Paris for a short meeting with ZAFT representatives. Afterwards, I intent to return and inspect some of the vines."

"I would like to go with you when you do that," she suddenly announced. "Inspect the vineyards, that is."

"You will find it tiring in the heat."

"I love the heat," she assured him.

"But you are so fair, you will burn easily," he said easily remedying another excuse.

"So are you," she said pointedly. "But I don't care," she bit out. "I'm coming with you."

"Fine," he relented. He looked rather annoyed by the outcome of their conservation. "But if you will excuse me," he said, rising. "I have some letters to write and paper work to look over."

"Good." She too, rose. She was determined not to let him know she resented being left alone so soon after dinner. "The drive from Paris has made me tired," she lied. "I suppose I'll have an early night."

"Perhaps you should rest tomorrow."

"I will go with you on your tour," she said firmly, not willing to give him another chance to escape her company, and was amused when she saw his mouth tighten.

"Be ready at ten-thirty then," he said, and strolled out.

Though Cagalli had told Athrun she was tired, she lay awake for many hours in the huge four-poster bed. The quiet of the countryside was almost tangible, and the sighing of the wind through the trees seemed louder than the hum of the traffic she had experienced while living in Copernicus City. When she finally awoke, she found herself annoyed by the twittering of birds which had seemingly all congregated outside her window. However, on closer inspection, she realized they weren't birds at all, but small robotic creatures and she had no doubt Athrun had programmed them to be a nuisance to her. She would definitely being having a talk with her husband about those damn 'birds' later. Muttering beneath her breath, she pulled the silk sheets over her head and dug herself deep into the pillow, falling asleep for another hour and awakening only when Anne-Marie came in with fresh grape juice. A glance at the most modern thing in her bedroom; an analog digital clock on her bedside table showed it to be ten o'clock and she sat up with a gasp.

"Dammit, I'll be late! I'm suppose to be going on a tour with Athrun in half an hour."

"I am sorry, mi'Lady, but I did not wish to disturb you. It was orders from the Chairman that prevented me from waking you earlier. He said you were fairly tired and needed a good-nights sleep."

She scowled and leaped out the bed. He was not going to get rid of her _that _easily. Obviously the man did not know Cagalli Yula Athha! Mid-way through thought, she stopped and corrected herself. _Zala_. She was Cagalli Yula Zala now. Either way, she would dress and be ready with time to spare and only then would she gloat in Athrun's face. However, when she saw the maid fussing around the room, picking up discarded lingerie from the night before from when Cagalli had had a fit in deciding on what to wear, only then did she realize the women had been afraid of interrupting something far more devious then a good-nights sleep. She instantly went red. The women probably thought she had been tired from nightly activities with her husband, and Athrun's request had only made the situation seem more plausible then not. Again, she scowled. That bastard. Her eyes roamed the walls to see if there were any doors set in them that were meant to lead to Athrun's suite. But the walls were unmarked and unwilling to ask Anne-Marie where her husband slept, she vowed to do her own reseach later. It was foolish for Athrun to pretend their marriage was normal if his wife didn't know where his bedroom was…

Idly, she dressed herself in khaki pants and a loose fitting t-shirt, unwilling to go on the tour wearing a dress.

"When will the rest of the Lady's wardrobe be arriving?"

The maid's question caught her wandering thoughts, though she was unsure of what to say.She decided to be truthful.

"I don't have any more clothes."

"Madame was a student, I believe."

"I already have my degree," Cagalli corrected.

"Perhaps it would be wise to ask the Chairman to send for a tailor," Anne-Marie suggested.

"Oh no!" Cagalli protested. "I have more than enough clothing for my needs…"

"But not enough for _my_ needs," the woman replied with unexpected humor. "All drip-dry and no ironing. What will I do with my time?"

"I'll try and think of something," Cagalli said with an unexpected giggle. She left five minutes laters with plenty of time to spare and ran down the sweeping staircase to the lower hall. She wasn't exactly sure where she was suppose to meet him, as he didn't actually designate a spot. No one was about and she paused on the bottom step. No voices could penetrate the heavy close doors and resolutely she marched across and opened one of the tem. It led into an unoccupied library and she closed the door and tried another. On the fourth attempt she came upon Athrun preparing himself to leave while in conversation with a middle-aged man whom he introduced as his secretary. He eyed her carefully and it was obvious he disapproved of her wardrobe selection, but said nothing.

"If there is anything your own secretary cannot do for your, mi'Lady," Monsieur Daudet said, clicking his heels, "I am always at your service to help."

"Thank you," Cagalli said politely, "but I don't have a secretary and—"

"You have, my dear," Athrun intervened. "Monsieur Daudet has already hired one for you."

"Why do I need a secretary?" Cagalli asked suspiciously, eyeing Athrun once over.

"The Lady is joking." Monsieur Daudet smiled. "When the wine harvest is under way, you may find that one secretary cannot cope with your engagements. Also, when you return to the PLANTs, you may find your position quite tedious as the Chairman's wife. There is always something for you to be doing."

At a loss to what he meant, Cagalli looked at Athrun. The faint smirk on his face decided he was going to let her remain ignorant. He had no need to look so superior just because she didn't know why she needed a secretary.

"What engagements and duties are you talking about, Monsieur Daudet?" she asked, contritely as possible. She didn't want to seem stupid, however she was fairly sure just be asking the question she had already accomplished that task.

"The social functions you will be required to attend while you are here, mi'Lady. The first visitors arrive in the fort-night. From then until the end of the season, the Chateau is full. You will be engaged both for luncheon and dinner." He glanced at Athrun as if to see whether or not Cagalli was pretending ignorance, but Athrun inclined his azure head.

"My wife is an innocent when it comes to our social life, Monsieur Daudet," he said smoothly. "Don't forget I snatched her from the schoolroom—almost from the cradle, you might say. Please continue with your explanation, as you are doing so admirably."

At that moment, Cagalli had never felt such a desire to slap someone in her life. Cradle? Innocent? She was nearly as old as him, if only a junior to her companion by 4 or 5 years. He made her seem like a child, which Cagalli would later assure him she was not. She burned with humiliation, Athrun's chastising words slicing through her temper like a hot knife, however kept her composure and attempted to politely continue to listen to Athrun's secretary. The secretary cleared his throat and continued.

"Each day the Chairman decides which guests to invite to your private dining room for luncheon and for dinner and then—"

"You mean they eat with us?!" Cagalli exclaimed, horrified at the thought. Two meals a day, suffering through them with forced politeness and pretending to be in madly in love with her husband, who she was definitely not feeling anything but contempt for. It seemed insufferable...

"Only your personal friends," Monsieur Daudet said, ignoring her horrified expression. "Many of the visitors are business friends of the Chairman and it has always been the custom that you meet them either for morning coffee or evening drinks. Despite the master claiming to be on vacation here, he is very much always busy, and likes his work."

"You will appreciate the reason for that once the season gets under way," Athrun interposed. "Sometimes we have forty people staying here, all of whom you are expected to entertain."

"I hadn't realized that," Cagalli said quietly. His look implied that there were many things she did not realize and she adverted her head, hurt by his contempt. She heard him stand up and then felt his hand, light and cool, under her elbow.

"Come. It is time for me to show you around…however, in the future, I would appreciate it if you wore more suitable attire for you position here in this household."

Cagalli again scowled and made a mental note to wear pants in the future as much as possible.

The Zala estate was a world of its own. It had its own rules and its own system of government—though seemingly without and opposition. Athrun was on first name terms with all his senior staff as well as a good proportion of his workers, and they greeted him with a warm friendliness which they extended to his wife. She was aware of being scrutinized and wondered how different she was from Meer. She must get Anne-Marie to talk about her. If she became less of a shadow, she might be more easily understood and then more easily forgotten. At the moment, Meer was too often in her mind, linked with constant pictures of Athrun as he must have been 7 years ago, on honey moon for the first time at 18. Surely he had been more lighthearted and happier, his smile not so infrequent and his manner not so aloof? How soon after his marriage had he realized Meer was not the girl he had supposed her to be? Or had he not realized it until she had been killed running away with another man? Only when she knew the whole story would she find the key to his character. She did not ask herself why this should be important to her; she only knew it was impossible to live with a man who remained an enigma.

Having made up his mind to show her his estate, Athrun did it with ferociousness, almost as if he desire to tire her out. But Cagalli's absorption in what she saw left no room for fatigue and she did not notice the long distances they walked or the hours they stood. He quickened his pace and soon they had reached the vineyards, striding between the rows of vines, their branches weighed down by heavy clusters of grapes already turning blue. They were still sour to the taste—Cagalli had tried one—and required several more weeks under the sun before being ripe enough for picking. The earth around each vine was carefully tended: not a weed or insect in sight, and watching the way the men occasionally touched the vines, she had the impression they regarded them as their children. Certainly many children did not receive the same loving care and attention as these plants. Soon, curiosity swept over her and she wondered if the plants were all natural, or had they been genetically enhanced. Was the Zala estate wine truly natures miracle, or was it simply clever genetics that made the wines taste as good as they did?

Somehow, she soon found herself divulged in a quick paced conversation with Athrun's secretary about the process of picking the grapes.

"—It is the actual the actual picking of the grapes from the vine that is done by hand," Monsieur Daudet added.

"Does it take long?"

"About three weeks. We have a hundred or more pickers who come regularly each year. They look on it as a holiday with pay and excellent food. Sometimes I think the Chairman is too generous with what he provides. A bottle of wine a day per person—a drinking wine, of course, but even so it is superior to what most people buy in a wine shop—and three full meals a day."

"For a hundred people?" Cagalli asked, startled. "That must take a lot of organization. Where do they sleep and eat?"

"You see that big building over there?" He pointed to the large white one made of the same stone of the Chateau. "That used to be an old couch-house, but now there is a kitchen and dining-room on the ground floor and dormitories above them."

"Do they get paid well?"

"Excellent wages."

"It must be hard work though," Cagalli said, trying to find some fault in which she could find Athrun to blame for.

"Not when you are doing it with your friends around you and the sun shining on your head," the secretary replied jovially. "Sometimes I have seen the Chairmen spend the morning picking grapes as well."

Cagalli tried but failed to see Athrun working alongside a happy crowd of grape-pickers.

"The Chairman is a gentlemen," Monseiur Daudet added. "He can mix with anyone."

"Monsieur Daudet," Athrun said breaking into the conversation as he strode back over from one of the barns. "There is no need to bore my lovely wife with such mundane conversation. Perhaps you would prefer to show her the stables?"

Immediately, Cagalli protested. "The conversation was going perfectly fine, Athrun dear," she rhymed off sweetly. "Monsieur Daudet was simply informing me on the state of your workers. They seem very well off."

"Indeed," Athrun replied. "I try and make sure everyone on my estate is as happy as possible."

"Everyone but myself," Cagalli muttered under her breath. The words went unnoticed by the secretary, but Athrun's attuned hearing immediately picked up on her disgruntled comment. Instantly, he grabbed her elbow and herded her away from the man.

"Excuse us, Monsieur Daudet, but I suddenly remembered my wife and myself have important business to attend to elsewhere. I'm sure if she is interested in where this conversation was heading, she will seek you out in the future. Forgive us."

The man simply nodded, ignoring the obvious blithness to which Athrun had pulled Cagalli away and went on with his duties.

When they were out of hearing distance from the man, he turned and gave her a stern and fairly angry look.

"There is no need for comments such as _that_, Cagalli." He lowered his voice and the grip on her arm tightened. "I am not here to make you happy. I am here because you asked it of me. And there is not need for you to be knowledgeable about my families personal business endeavors. All you are required to do is look pretty when necessary. I will not have you looking for faults and making snide comments about me when you were the one who put yourself in this situation!"

"I am not a doll!" she spat crossly at him.

"And you are not a real wife either," he rebutted, his eyes hard and his mouth rigid. "I would advise you to remember that."

"You aren't going to let me forget it, are you?

"Do you blame me?" His voice went lower still. "You forced me into marriage, but you cannot make me like you."

"That wasn't my intention."

"I'm glad to hear it. And eye for and eye is the way you described our union—though of course you have given two eyes for my one."

"What do you mean?" she asked, her voice genuinely confused.

"Your intention was to imprison me the way your father was a prisoner, but in capturing me, you have imprisoned yourself! And in doing so, we are both unhappy!"

"My cage is a golden one," she retorted, angry with him, and heard him draw a sharp breath. She knew her reply had stopped him from feeling the satisfaction he had hoped to gain from his taunt, yet to herself she admitted the truth of what he had just said. In tying him to her, she had also tied herself. Never had she more fully realized it in that moment. She turned away from him and stared blindly into the distance.

"I think I've seen enough for today," she said rather quietly.

"Don't you want to see the gardens?"

With a shake of her head, she walked way, aware that as she did so, he immediately turned towards his secretary. Yet no matter how unfriendly Athrun was to her, she was now a part of his life and bore his stupid, _stupid_ name. But that was all she would bear: the name and nothing more.

"I have no regrets!" she said aloud, angry that words should have come into her mind. "If I had to make the choice again I would still do the same." But her voice deceived her and she sounded miserable and unhappy, not at all like someone who was denying their misgivings.

She stopped walking and raised her head into the sky, quite unsure of where her absentminded walking had brought her. Quite frankly, she was rather lost. The light was intense and her eyes filled with tears.

"What do you think of me now, father?" she cried a loud. "Aren't you proud of your daughter? Aren't you ashamed of what I've done to myself? Marrying the man who put you in prison?!" Maybe if he answered her, she could feel some condolences to her actions...But the blue sky gave her no answer and the glare seemed to intensify as the tears blurred her vision, making her stumble as she walked slowly back to the Chateau.


	5. Chapter 5

**Chapter 5**

Athrun did not join her for lunch and for the entire afternoon she was left alone to amuse herself at will. The excuse he sent was estate business, but she knew it was his way of showing her that though she could command him to marry her, she could not command his attention or time. They did not meet until dinner, but unlike the night before, he came into the salon only a few moments before the meal was to be served, making no room for conversation.

In the dining room he ate silently, commenting occasional to the wine steward about a particular vintage that was served to him. Immediately after dinner was over, Athrun left her, murmuring that he had papers to read over. She did not believe him, and when this excuse was repeated on the second night, after another day which she had spent alone, she asked him why he did not bring his papers into the salon.

"I prefer to see as little of your as possible," he replied.

He was by the door when he spoke and she could not see his face. But his voice was icy, his dislike of her so strong that it seemed to fill the air between them.

"How long do you intend to go on ignoring me?" she asked.

"You are my wife and you live in my home," he replied, with the same fueled glacial tone from before. "What more do you want?"

"It's what _you_ want that I'm thinking about," she answered coldly. "If you wish your friends to think our marriage is normal, you can't go on ignoring me."

"When our visitors arrive I will behave differently." With his hand on the door he turned to look at her. "Do you not have any inner resources with which to occupy yourself?"

"You know my qualifications," she snapped. "I believe my school reports and university results were always sent to you."

His lips compressed. "When I read them, I promised myself that one day we would meet. You were exceptional smart, considering."

"Considering what?" she asked, her temper flaring. "Considering that I'm a Natural?"

"No," he quickly said, rectitudinous to her comment. "Considering that you were a very smart and intelligible young lady. I was impressed with your marks either way, _despite_ your heritage."

"Well we would have never met if I hadn't returned that cheque to you," she retorted. "Otherwise you would have paid me off and forgotten me—the way you did all along!"

"Neither my father nor I forgot you. We did not visit you because we believed it was better for you not to see us."

She turned away from him, full of anger and uncontrolled temper.

"You have only yourself to blame for your present position," he said continuing on. "You are young and beautiful and I am sure you could have met a man who would have loved you. But in marrying me you have merely ensure the continuation of your loveless life. You should have thought of that before you insisted on tying yourself to _me_."

The door closed behind him, but the thoughts with which he had left her kept her preoccupied. Everything he had said was true. But even though she might regret the predicament into which she had put herself, she was not going to wallow in self-pity. Nor was she going to let Athrun guess how she felt. She would make her life exciting without him. She was his wife and she would use his name and wealth to open any door she wished. The trouble was that it was seldom exciting to go through a door that opened willingly; excitement only came from having to use guile, intelligence and effort to get it open.

She paced the room. It was a small salon, used only when they were alone. Yet even despite its small size, it was more than forty feet long and its contents were of immeasurable wealth.

"I'm the cheapest thing in it," she thought, seeing her pale reflection in a gilded mirror. In her own surroundings, she was vivid and colorful, but in this over-stuffed room she felt like a candle trying to glow against the light of a thousands lamps.

"I am Athrun Zala's wife." She spoke the words aloud. "I married him to change his life and I'm going to do so whether he likes it or not!"

She spun around with a certain air of stubbornness and looked at the closed doors he had previously walked out from. "Tomorrow things will change," she said determinedly, a small yet smug smile flittering across her face.

The next morning, as though following on from her decision to make some impact on Athrun, there was a note from Monsieur Daudet on her desk to say her new secretary had arrived at the Chateau. _'The first visitors will be arriving in ten days,_' he concluded in the note_, 'and I have given Miss. Haw their names. I await your comments on their accommodations._'

"Could you ask Miss. Haw to come to my room?" Cagalli asked Anne-Marie, and was sitting idly on a settee when her new secretary came in. She was simple in looks, Cagalli thought modestly, young looking, but was certainly pretty enough with her light auburn hair and bright blue eyes. She looked nervous almost, but certainly wasn't scared.

"Greetings, Lady Zala," she said lowering her head in respect. "I am Miss. Miriallia Haw, and I will be your personal secretary. I look forward to working for you and helping you run the Estate."

Cagalli's lips twitched into a rueful smile.

"I don't know how I am supposed to keep you occupied," Cagalli admitted with some honesty. "I've never had a secretary before. Are you to file papers for me...or perhaps take calls?" Her naivety on the subject amused the girl and she broke out into a giggle.

"Oh no, Miss!" Miriallia exclaimed with somewhat of an amused smile on her face. "--I mean, _Lady Zala_," she said correcting herself only moments later. "I've worked for the Chairman before. I was his previous wife's secretary, if only for a short while. However, I am well acquainted with the Zala Estate and I assure you that you will soon have more than enough work for me, and not just answering phones," she said somewhat playfully.

Cagalli decided she liked girl and broke out into a grin.

"Well, I suppose you know the job more then I do," she said wistfully. "Tell me," she said suddenly. "How old are you?"

"Twenty, Lady Zala," she replied instantly.

A small '_ah_' was heard and Cagalli twisted her head thoughtful. "That must have meant you were seventeen when you were my husbands former wife's secretary!" She seemed mystified by the event and Miriallia smiled understandingly.

"I had just come out of the first war," she explained, "and was looking for employment. I thought of being a photographer for sometime; however people weren't interested in photo's of destruction and devastation which seemed to be the only thing around. Friends of mine knew contacts close to the Zala's and I was hired promptly shortly there after. However, my employment was short-lived seeing how the former Mistress was displeased with my services…"

"Displeased?" Cagalli echoed.

"Yes," Miriallia replied. "The Chairman's former wife was…less then happy to have a Natural working for her. She was unaware of my heritage at the time of hiring and simply thought I was a Coordinator coming from Orb." Abruptly, she turned red as though she had said too much and lowered her eyes in repentance. "My apologies, Lady Zala. I did not mean seem prudent about my predecessor."

Cagalli shook her head and smiled. The fact that the girl was a native of Orb brought comfort to her mind and instantly she felt some sort of ethereal connection.

"No worries, Miriallia," Cagalli said easily. "I know little about my husbands' former wife, and quite frankly, I'm rather curious as to find out more." She paused momentarily before adding an afterthought. "And _please_," she said rather gravely. "Stop calling me Lady Zala. Cagalli will do. Lady Zala makes me seem..._old_." She crinkled her nose in a look of disgust. "The least you can do for me is remind me what my real name is!"

Her secretary laughed and Cagalli laughed with her.

"I'm not sure if the Chairmain will approve," Miriallia suddenly vocalized. "He is quite strict when it comes to traditional things such as manner of address."

Cagalli scowled.

"Don't worry about my husband. If he says anything on the subject, I personally make sure myself that you are not penalized for it."

Miriallia nodded her head and smiled.

"Do you have the list of visitors?" Cagalli suddenly asked. Miriallia nodded and held out her hand, supplying her mistress with the list of names. She glanced down the rows of names, recognizing many famous ones. Several were typed in red and at her query, Miriallia explained that these were personal friends of the Chairman and would receive full hospitality while staying at the Chateau. The others were business friends, visiting the Chateau on official ZAFT and PLANT pragmatic orders. How dull, Cagalli thought drily. She had thought Athrun was suppose to be on vacation here. However, it seemed daily he was making trips to Paris and always had officials from the PLANTs visiting the Chateau.

"Monsieur Daudet would like to know which suites you wish to assign to the personal visitors," Miriallia chimed in.

"How can I decide that?"

"If you saw them…" she suggested lightly.

Annoyed that she had not thought of that herself, Cagalli rose and followed Miriallia down the hallway to an eccentric row of rooms in another wing. With Miriallia by her side, Cagalli began a tour of the bedrooms. There were thirty suites, all of them elaborately furnished in a different colour and style, though none but a select few were modern. She understood why they needed to employ such a large staff: even empty they would need regular cleaning, and when the Chateau was full it would be a full-time job for everyone employed here.

Glancing through the list, Cagalli saw that those guests marked in red also had a number beside their name.

"That tells us which suite they occupied when they were here before," Miriallia explained. "People always feel more at home if they can be placed in a room that is familiar to them."

"Then that solves the problem," Cagalli said brightly. "The rest of the guests can be divided between the remaining suites."

"And will it be in order for me to see to the flowers and fruits?"

"What flowers and fruits?"

"For each suite. I believe the Chairman likes this to be made available to every guest."

Cagalli nodded.

"By all means, obey the Chairman."

While her secretary made notes, Cagalli looked around the bedroom in which they were standing. It was decorated in a blue and white motif and would have been ideal for a young person. Except that no one on the list was likely to be under thirty. Twenty-five at the most, but that was the limit. Rarely had Cagalli met anyone of any important statue beneath the age of twenty-five. She bit back a sigh. Were all rich people destine to be old? She knew they weren't, but also knew that Athrun's social and business life followed a pattern she would find as difficult to break as she would to enter it.

"Will you please find out as much as you can about the names typed in red?" she said with sudden decision. "Since they are the close friends of my husband, I would like to know as much about them as possible."

"I know some of them by repute," Miriallia replied. "With help from Monsieur Daudet," she hastily added. Soon she launched into a quick resume of their character and idiosyncrasies.

"During the first months, the Chairman entertains his older friends," Miriallia concluded. "Most were friends of his father and mother. But from August on, he entertains more socially and you will find many younger people here."

"Who organizes the food?" Cagalli asked.

"The food steward. Each week the head chef will present you with his suggestions for menus."

"They had better be more than suggestions." Nervousness made Cagalli flippant. "I don't have a clue how to feed high society…" Her voice trailed away and she was suddenly overcome by a longing to return to her childhood home. "Did you know my husband when he was younger?" Cagalli suddenly asked. "During the war that is?"

Miriallia shook her head and looked quite pensive on the subject.

"No," she said rather slowly. "However, I met him indirectly multiple times through battle."

"So you were a pilot fighter?" Cagalli asked, astonished. She herself knew her husband through repute to be an excellent pilot, as his exploits were widely known. He was a decorated war hero and in that respect knew how dangerous he could be in a fight.

"Oh no!" she quickly replied, embarrassed by Cagalli's high assumption of her position during the war. "I was a Communications Officer on a ship piloted by Murrue Ramius of the Earth Forces. Our ship, the _Archangel_ went to battle many times against Athrun while he piloted his Gundam, _Justice_."

The conversation fell silent and soon both returned to Cagalli's private quarters.

That afternoon a pantechnicon filled with wedding presents arrive at the Chateau. Cagalli was sitting idly by the pool when Miriallia came to tell her.

"But we never had a wedding reception," Cagalli exclaimed. "Who would send us presents?"

"The Chairman has a large circle of friends and the announcement of his marriage was in all the leading magazines."

"Of course." Cagalli could have kicked herself for not realizing Athrun would make this face-saving gesture. "I suppose our marriage came as a surprise to everyone who knows my husband?" she murmured.

"Great families make their own rules," Miriallia said playfully.

Cagalli acknowledged this remark with a smile and wandered over to the edge of the pool. The water glittered like aquamarine, a paler blue than Athrun's dark hair. She perched herself on the marble ledge and dipped her feet into it. The pool was large enough to meet Olympic standards and it seemed a terrible waste for it to be unused. Since she had arrived her, not once had she seen anyone in it.

"Would you like me to have the presents set out in the small salon?" her secretary asked.

"How many presents are there?"

"About four hundred so far."

"Good heavens!" Cagalli exclaimed. "I wonder how many toasters there are…"

Her secretary looked amused. "Not one, Lady--,_Cagalli_," she said correcting herself. "There are five dinner sets, a dozen silver cruets, a Georgian tea set, half a dozen silver trays, a set of gold champagne goblets and—"

"No more," Cagalli pleaded. "My mind's already swimming." She jumped up. "I'll go in for a quick swim and then come and help you with the unpacking."

"The servants will do that that, Cagalli."

Cagalli, slightly agitated by the last comment, she said nothing and took a flying leap into the pool. Water splashed around her, sparking in the clear air, and with arms flailing, she swam to the far side of the pool then relaxed, floating aimlessly while enjoying the sun that beat down on her. After awhile she swam back towards the chaise-longue, wrapped herself in a toweling coat and padded across the lawn to the Chateau. A flight of stone steps led up to the wide terrace that gave on to the main rooms, and once here, she walked to the far end where another flight of steps led to a narrower second terrace and her apartments. It would be more sensible in the future for her to leave a change of clothing in one the cabanas that lay to one side of the pool, she thought idly to herself. Climbing up and down these steps in the heat of the day was tiring.

Slipping into a loose cotton tunic and khaki pants, she tidied her hair and went downstairs again. A retinue of servants were busy setting out the presents, and she was impressed by the beauty of many of them. Had Athrun received an equal quantity when he had married before? It would be interesting to go through the cupboards in the Chateau to see.

"There's so many," Cagalli muttered under her breath. "And there _so_…eloquent. Surely we won't need half of these things. I mean, who would? I bet we won't even use half of them..."

"You seem so sure of yourself." A voice came up behind her and she swung around to see Athrun. She had not seen him during the day since her arrival at the Chateau nearly ten days ago, and though she wished that it showed a change of attitude on his part, she knew it stemmed only from a desire to see the gifts that had been sent to them.

"I was wondering how much these presents would fetch if we auctioned them," she said flippantly. "I mean we don't really need them…then we could give the money to a charity and put it to good use."

"And hurt the feelings of my friends?" he said regarding her coolly.

"I hadn't thought of that," she replied, dejected by his cold comment. She hadn't meant to hurt his feelings, she just felt it silly to keep items they really had no need for…

"You never think," he said coldly.

"You must be careful not to flatter me too much, Athrun," she snapped. "I might get conceited."

His eyes widened, making her aware of how green they really were. Like a lush forest, she thought inconsequently.

"Come and tell me who each present is from," she said with false cheerfulness, aware of Miriallia and Monsieur Daudet were looking in their direction. Without a thought, she slipped her arm through his.

He stiffened, then relaxed, also aware that they were being watched. He gave her a short resume of all the senders and Cagalli was mildly impressed by the names Athrun commanded friendship from. Glancing at his clear-cut profile, she knew how distastefully he must regard the situation she had forced him into.

"We must give a party for all your friends," she said lightly. "I'm sure they will be expecting it."

"We can talk about it at the end of the season—when we return to the PLANTs—unless you elect to remain here."

"I wouldn't like it here it here in the winter," she said crinkling her nose. "It seems like it would be rather cold."

"Not much colder then Orb."

"I haven't lived in Orb since I was a girl," she replied stiffly. "I really wouldn't know the temperature there these days. Besides, I don't want to be parted from you."

A muscle twitched in his cheek and she knew her baiting was successful, despite him trying to appear unmoved by it.

"Wherever you go, _dear_, I go," she continued. "Like Ruth, remember?" she said making reference to an ancient Biblical religious figure.

"Ruth chose to stay with her mother-in-law because of love, not vengeance."

"Then you should encourage me to love you," she said coldly. She hadn't meant her statement seriously, more or less a blow aimed at his ego, however the recoil of his body warned her she might have gone too far and she was conscious of the tension that stiffened in his entire form. He was a man of culture but he was also—if gossip had it correct—a man of hot passion; to taunt him was both unwise and dangerous. She was his wife and he had legal rights over her. Though he had declared his intention of keeping their marriage the sham he regarded it, he could also decide that to possess her physical would be a good way of paying her back for what she had done to him.

"It's stupid of us to fight," she said hastily. "We've civilized people and—and we should behave in a civilized manner."

"You are only civilized when it suits you," he retorted. "At other times you show yourself to be totally lacking in principle. You are not at all like a proper lady who had been raised by royalty."

It was a humiliating comment and she remained silent. More than any man she had met, this one could quickly put her in place. He had an erudite mind and a quick wit, and to cross verbal swords with him would only result in her defeat. All in all, it might be best if they saw as little of one another as possible. Yet that would defeat the whole purpose of their marriage. Worse still, it would be doing exactly as he wanted.

"I am no more lacking in principle than any other woman," she said hotly. "You should not demand more from me than you do from any other of your woman friends."

"I demand nothing from women," he replied. "I have no use for them except as…"

The look on his face made it unnecessary for him to finish and she dropped her hand from his arm. Her eyes narrowed and she stared at him with contempt and anger.

"Is that all you look at women as? _As_—as objects who are nothing more then for your manly pleasures?!"

A small, demeaning smile appeared on his taunt face and a steely glint appeared in his eyes. He took a step forward, invading her personal space and Cagalli felt a hitch in her breath, her cheeks flushing in color. The smile on his face faded and a look of disgust overtook his features.

"Perhaps it would be wise of you not to ask such questions if you are not prepared for said the answers," he replied, taking a step back.

Still flushing, Cagalli took a step back and turned away. Angry with her reaction, she tried to compose herself and turned back.

"Perhaps you should tell me how to entertain your friends at the Chateau, Athrun," she said sweetly. "I don't want to do anything you wouldn't like."

He didn't miss the obvious sarcasm in her voice and his face darkened.

"You will not be called on to entertain them. You would find it tedious."

"Of course I won't find it tedious," she replied instantly. "I would love to entertain your friends. I am your wife and your friends will expect to see me."

He went silent, his eyes turning a violent shade of green and she noted his jaw go rigid.

"Fine," he relented. "However, you will not find them amusing."

"I didn't marry you to be amused, Athrun," she said icily. "You should know that by now."

"Is there anything else I should know?" he countered with equal animosity.

"Only that I have no intentions of letting you hide me. When I am bored with your friends I will go out and find my own. But until they I intend to play the role of the wife of the Chairman. I'm sure I can do it as well as Meer did."

He recoiled sharply.

"You will oblige me by not mentioning her name." However his request sounded more like a demand and Cagalli did not take kindly to this.

"Why not?" she asked with spite. "Did you love her so much that you still can't bear to hear it? Or perhaps it was her faithlessness that still haunts you—"

Be quiet!" Though low, his voice held such a depth of fury that it quelled her. She had not known he would be moved to such anger by the mention of his first wife. It showed her how raw his emotions really were.

"Forgive me, Athrun," she said quietly. Guilt overtook her senses. She had not meant to hurt him in this way. "I didn't realize that talking about her would upset you. After all it's been three years since she died..."

"It's been ten years since your father died, but I see no lessening of _your _anguish!"

It was her turn to recoil, and he saw it and looked triumphant.

"Be content with what you have, Cagalli," he said very softly. "Don't try to score any cheap little victories over me, or you will make yourself cheaper than I already think you are."

"I'm the first of your wives who is!" she said furiously. "From what I gather, Meer was _extremely _expensive!"

His breath caught in a gasp, she swung away from him and crossed quickly to her secretary's side. Behind her she heard Athrun speak to Monsieur Daudet and, glancing at him, saw he was in complete control of himself again. How secure his armour was! Meer was the only flaw in it. It had been three years since her death and he could still not hear her name without flinching. Well, it at least showed he was capable of love, even though it was thoroughly misplaced.


	6. Chapter 6

**AN: So this is my first authors note ever, heh. So I'd like to start off with thank-you to everyone who has reviewed so far; the reviews are what keep me writing. Constructive critism, words of encouragement, and anything else you'd like to say is always welcomed. I've had an overwhelming response in alert-updates, and story favorites, so again, thanks. Second, I broke my middle finger on Thursday, hence why this update hasn't been as fast as the others. Typing as become considerably slower now. So yeah. Please be patient with me as I myself am already frustrated beyond belief. Anyways, read and review and I'm over and out.**

**Chapter 6**

Because of her argument with Athrun, Cagalli was not sure if he would put in an appearance at dinner and to raise her courage—which would be at a low ebb if she had to dine alone—she allowed Anne-Marie to do her hair. The women chose a strikingly similar style to which she had worn her hair the first evening she arrived at the Chateau, however was much more sophisticated and professionally done. To do justice to such effort, Cagalli wore her newest dress, an extravagant purchase she had made the day before her wedding when cold feet had nearly prompted her to call the whole thing off. What would she being doing now if she had actually done so? She glanced at a clock on the wall. Seven-thirty. She would either be settling down to a meal in a noisy hostel dining-room or perhaps dressing to go out on a date with Ahmed. It was strange to realize she had never fallen in love once, when so many of her friends had gone from one affair to another. Cagalli however, dated sparsely, and when she did, often did she not let the relationship advance as far as the recipient she was dating would have liked too. But then again, the bitterness that had eroded her since her father's imprisonment and death had not been conducive to lighthearted flirtations. It was in this way that Cagalli mostly remained alone up until she had met Ahmed. The boy chased her like no tomorrow, and eventually she had been forced to give in to his constant requests. It had been annoying, but Cagalli was flattered by the constant attention and found him to actually be bearable in conversation, if not a tad exuberant. Exuberance she would deal with. However, the constant jealously and overbearing protectiveness she could not. She wondered now what the sweet boy was doing and thought ruefully back to her time a the hostel. She hadn't exactly told Ahmed where she was going and she could imagine him now scouring the streets for her in a mad panic, thinking she had been kidnapped or something along the likes. However by now he probably knew about her marriage to Athrun, and in that respect was probably furious with her for not telling him.

Anne-Marie nimbly zipped up the pale green dress.

"The Lady has an ideal neck for jewellery. She should ask the Chairman for some necklaces."

"I would find it…unbecoming to ask my husband for presents," Cagalli said with a small smile.

"I was thinking the family jewels," her maid replied. "They cannot be considered as presents. There are several cases in the safe, and many more in the vaults on the PLANTs. Monsieur Daudet gave me a complete list of the Zala collection when I came here."

"An inventory of my jewellery?" They must be mind-numbingly rich, Cagali thought with some disgust. However, she distained from her comment and politely asked to see the list. The woman rummaged in her pocket and took out a long sheet of paper. Cagalli glanced quickly down it and handed it back.

"I don't think anything there will go with my dress," Cagalli replied ruefully.

"The Lady will not be wearing cotton dresses when the visitors arrive. The ladies are always beautifully gowned and jeweled. And you will be the center of attention, seeing as how you are the Chairmans new wife."

"So what?" Cagalli said indifferently.

Anne-Marie tried not to look shocked.

"When one is young and beautiful, jewels and cloths are not important. But one day even the Lady might feel it necessary to embellish her beauty," she said tactfully.

With a slight smile, Cagalli acknowledged the complimentary reprimand. It was understandable that the woman was put out at having to be a lady's maid to a mistress who had little interest in adorning herself with fancy things. It was time she started to think about it, not that she really wanted to. She looked down at herself. The low neckline showed off the small tan she had acquired since she had arrived at the Chateau and it gave the girl a slightly sun-kissed look. Leaning towards the mirror, she ran a finger over one eyebrow and then took out some mascara from the dressing drawer table. Carefully, with some defeat, she applied it to her lashes. They were naturally and unusually dark and she rarely did anything to increase their length. But now she put on several careful coats of black and was slightly amused by the way they grew thicker and longer still. They looked…unnatural and out of place on the girl and Cagalli decided in the future to leave her eyelashes alone.

With a slight feeling of apprehension, she entered the salon. Athrun was not at his usual place by the mantelpiece and she swallowed her disappointment and marched over to the cabinet to get herself a drink. She was halfway across the room when she saw the flash of something dark, and swinging around, saw a strange young man in a black dinner jacket. Slowly, his eyes appraised her. They were violet, a strange color of purple, reminiscent of the intensity that Athrun's held, however were lacking when it came to same steely edge. The stranger's eyes were kind looking, soft almost. His dark brown hair, a silkly chestnut color, was brushed to the side of his face, revealing gentle looking features and a smiling mouth. All in all, he was an attractive man, however seemed to be one who was quite unaware of that fact.

"So you are the fair lady who had finally managed to make Athrun break his vow," he said with a slight laugh.

"Vow?" she questioned.

"Of never marrying again." He came a step closer. "I can see why he changed his mind," he said kindly. "He is a lucky man. But then again, he always has been."

Remembering the tragedy of Athrun's first marriage, then the death of his beloved mother, Cagalli could not echo the sentiment. Nor did she believe that anyone who made such a remark could be Athrun's friend.

"It would be nice to know who you are you," she commented in all seriousness. For all she knew, this man could be an axe-wielding murderer!

"My apologies, Lady Cagalli," he said his eyes crinkling. "I am Kira Yamato." His eyes probed hers and, seeing no recognition in them added: "I was an old friend of Athrun's from childhood, of whom he has obviously not spoken of." She wondered how he knew her name, but then again, it was probably splashed all over the news, so she brushed the thought aside.

"We had other things to talk of," she murmured, and saw him smile. His teeth were white and well-shaped and they accented his soft face, making him look rather naïve, but steady.

"Have you just arrived here, Mr. Yamato?" she asked.

"A guest on your honeymoon?" His smile widened. "No…I happen to a neighbor."

"A neighbor?" she echoed.

"Yes. My state adjoins yours. I am rarely there, as I choose to spend most of my time in Orb...I came her looking for someone…" he said trailing off rather abruptly.

Cagalli stared at him, her lips pursed into a small '_hmm_' and glanced out the large picturesque windows.

"No one has been here besides me and my husband, Mr. Yamato," she finally said.

"I would have guessed so," he said ruefully, if almost sadly. "However, it was worth trying, I suppose."

"Has…has this friend of yours been missing long?" she suddenly asked.

"Oh no," he quickly replied. He walked past her to the tray of drinks. "She was upset with me and left early morning yesterday. I thought perhaps she would find solstice here with Athrun, but I guessed wrong." He poured two glasses of champagne and audaciously offered one to Cagalli. "Excuse us for not waiting for Athrun, but he shouldn't keep his beautiful bride waiting." Again, his eyes were twinkling and he looked happy.

"I was early," she said.

"A faithful husband would know this and come accompany you while you wait."

Cagalli almost snorted at this comment, but held herself back and took a quick sip of her drink.

"What?" he asked, amused. "What's so funny?"

"Nothing," she quickly replied with a smile. "I was merely thinking back to some funny er--,memories."

He nodded his head, accepting her answer and he too took a sip of his drink. She took this time to study him again. He looked younger than Athrun, and she guessed him to be around twenty-four or twenty-three. She wondered if he managed his estate alone, or if there was a father in the background…somehow she did not think so. He had the air of a master, despite his gentle nature, and not a son.

"Athrun didn't tell me you were coming to dinner, Mr. Yamato," Cagalli suddenly commented.

"He doesn't know it yet," he replied with a soft voice. "I was driving by and called in to offer my congratulations."

She fell silent. In ordinary circumstances, she would immediately have invited him to stay, but because of her relationship with Athrun—or rather her lack of it—she dared not proffer the invitation.

"You are indeed a dutiful wife," he said, wrongly interpreting her silence. "You won't even invite a guest to your table without your husband's permission."

"You speak with such cynicism," she said, "that you are either unhappily married or too much of a cynic to ever to have tried!"

He burst out laughing and she immediately lopped another few years from his age. "Forgive me, Lady Cagalli," he said still smiling. "But you are so different from Athrun's previous wife, Meer. But I suppose you only have half of your verdict right," he finally mused. "I am neither unhappily married, nor too cynical to try. I suppose I just worry I won't make a good husband and therefore I'm too scared." She thought about this for only a moment before moving on.

"How do you know Athrun?" she suddenly asked.

"We met when we were children while attending a prepatory school in Copernicus City, and later during the wars..." he said wistfully, as if remembering something all too painful. "You should come visit me at my estate so we can talk more on the subject. I feel discussing it here would be...inappropriate."

"That sounds wonderful, however—"

"I'm sure Athrun will let you go visiting. Or does he intend to keep you all to himself?" His voice had suddenly taken a hardened edge and Cagalli grew quite still. The words reminded her that this was exactly what he would like to do. But not for the reasons this young man supposed. The knowledge of Athrun's anger towards her lessened her irritation with this genteel visitor and the smile she gave him was warmer than any he had yet received from her.

"I would love to visit you one day, Mr. Yamato, but for the moment, I am on my honeymoon."

"A strange place to spend a honeymoon. I am surprised that Athrun did not take you away."

"We _are_ away."

"I meant away to some remote island in the Pacific."

"I prefer the sun of Bordeaux," she replied easily. "The Pacific is far too much like my old home on Orb." The man's eyes light up at the mention of Orb, however he did not have time to comment on it as Athrun entered the room. At least he had decided to dine with her, and not because he was expecting an old friend either, for at the sight of the man his cool demeanor gave way to a look of dislike which he quickly masked.

"Good evening, Kira. I wasn't expecting you."

"Good evening to you too, Athrun. It's nice too see you again…but surely you don't expect to keep your beautiful bride hidden for ever?"

Athrun's eyes narrowed. "Even you must understand a bridegrooms' desire for privacy."

Kira gave way to an easy shrug, but Cagalli sensed he was not as unaware of his unwelcome as he pretended. The animosity between the two men was tangible and she was curious to know what had caused it. It would be a waste of time to ask Athrun; the leash he put on his feelings would preclude him from telling her anything. Had he always been so withdrawn, or was it caused by his unhappy marriage and Meer's untimely death?

"Now you are here, I hope you will stay for dinner." She was astonished to hear her own voice and knew from the look Athrun flung her that he was astonished too. This look, more than anything else, determined her not to back down on her invitation. After all, Athrun wanted them to pretend their marriage was a real one, and she wouldn't be too scare to issue an invitation to a guest in her own home, particularly when it was the mention of an old friend.

"I'd love to stay," Kira said, glancing at Athrun. "Is that all right with you?' He seemed to almost be asking for forgiveness, his voice taking on a remorseful edge that startled Cagalli in the utmost.

"If my wife wishes it."

"How unfriendly you sound, dearest," Cagalli said in her most teasing voice. "You friend might think you don't want him here."

"My _friend_ knows exactly how I feel about him."

The reply was so acid that she was convinced Athrun's dislike for the younger man stemmed from much more than a simple small-time fight between supposed friends. There was a definite reason for it.

"Where did you meet your charming wife?" Kira was speaking again and Cagalli waited curiously for Athrun's answer. Strangely enough, they had never discussed how they would deal with such a question and she saw how difficult it was going to be to pretend they had met socially. The difference in their backgrounds—to say nothing of the difference in their personalities—would make this unlikely.

"Cagalli's father was Uzumi Nara Athha."

Momentarily the name did not register with the younger man. When it did, he did not hide his astonishment.

"You mean the former Representive of Orb whom…"

"Yes." Athrun spoke without expression. "The man we wrongfully prosecuted. As you are aware," he continued, "my father and I took care of Nara's daughter, and when she was twenty-one, I decided it was my duty to see her."

"And you always do your duty." The look on Kira's face was hard to read. "So that was the first time you met?"

"To my loss, yes." Athrun came over and rested his hand on Cagalli's shoulder. It was the first time he had touched her and she was intensely aware of the warmth of his hand on her bare skin. "If I had seen her earlier, I might not have wasted so many years."

"Not as many as all that," Kira replied. 'Unless you were prepared to marry a schoolgirl!" He said this with a laugh, his eyes again crinkling.

"I'm twenty-one," Cagalli reminded him, intensely aware of Athrun's hand still resting on her shoulder. "Not as young as you think, Sir."

"As I am, Princess," he said regurgitating a name from Cagalli's childhood that made her chest pull tight. "But it was the bloom of your youth that swept my friend off his feet."

Colour came to her cheeks and she knew Athrun noticed it too, for he gave a soft, slightly unpleasant laugh.

"Please don't call me Princess," Cagalli said softly. "It's a name I am unfamiliar with and it—"

"Don't tease my bride, Kira, she is still an innocent."

"Still?" Fine brown eyes rose and a blush rose to the young man's cheeks. To suggest such a thing to anyone was unsightly and wholly embarrassing. People simply did not discuss their bedroom endevours in high-society.

"Mentally, I mean," Athrun added smoothly. "And I would like to keep her that way."

"You will have your work cut out once French society gets sight of her. She is quite beautiful Athrun…familiar almost."

Abruptly, Athrun's hand dropped from Cagalli's shoulder.

"We will go into dinner now," he said and turned to the door.

As always the meal was faultless and the wine superb. To Cagalli's surprise, Athrun and his 'friend' maintained a civilized, almost friendly conversation and the younger man showed himself to be a participant in the war as well. At a signal from Athrun, the steward served them both a special claret.

"I can't make up my mind if it is tool early to start bottling it," Athrun explained. "What do you think?"

"You know very well you don't listen to me," Kira said with a laugh. He took another sip and looked at Cagalli. "The one thing on which your husband and I agree is that he has the greatest nose for wine of any man living. While most experts access by color and age, Athrun decides by palate alone. However, as I always say, his wine endeavors are much too old for his age and he should be doing something more…youthful." He took another sip from his glass. "This is going to be a great wine, Athrun."

"I had high hopes for it. The weather was perfect that year, of course."

"Does it always depend on good weather?" Cagalli asked.

"Not good in a sense that you mean," Athrun replied. "It is our variable weather which makes the wines variable, and sometimes so great. A predicable climate, such as you find in California or Africa, produces predictably boring wines."

"Zala wines are always magnificent," Kira said. "And never boring."

"We range from magnificent to superb," Athrun said instantly, "but I agree we are always first class." He sounded very full of himself, albeit proud and suddenly Cagalli had the desire to knock him off his high-held pedestal. However, no opportunities arose and she remained fairly silent for the rest of the dinner. Athrun and Kira continued to divulge each other in conversation involving wine, a subject Kira seemed to be fairly knowledgably about, if only out of the sake to remain in interest with Athrun. It was quite obvious that vineyards and wine-producing were not his main forte, however that didn't stop him from learning about the subject. They now talked of Premier Cru, something to which Cagalli knew nothing about, so she piqued interested and asked the question.

"I expected you to know that for yourself," Athrun said to Cagalli, "or have you changed your mind about reading the books you took from the library?"

"Of course not," she replied. "But none of them are as entertaining as listening to you and Kira." She looked at him. "You are quite knowledgeable on the subject Kira. Perhaps I may visit your estate sooner then expected." Her words caused Athrun to stiffen and his jaw went rigid. He did not seem pleased. However, he said nothing and the conversation fell silent.

The table was soon cleared and the cheese board set upon it. Each night fresh ones were displayed. Heaven knew what happened to those that had had a small sliver removed. Either there was a great deal of waste at the Chateau or the servants ate as luxuriously as the Chairman! Cagalli helped herself to some Stilton.

"I'm glad you are not on of those females who peck at their food," Kira commented as he followed her example.

"I love eating," she confessed. "As a child I never stopped. My bodyguard Ledonir, worried I would grow fat, but I never did."

"Not at all like Meer," Kira said quietly, flashing a look at Athrun. "She ate like a bird. She always maintained she wasn't hungry, but I think it was magnificent will power."

"I am sure my wife isn't interested in her predecessor." Athrun's eyes glittered like a green flame: his first open sign of anger. It emphasized his susceptibility to any mention of Meer and re-confirmed Cagalli's belief that all he was today had been molded by a woman who had been dead for three years. "I will take my coffee to my study," he said, pushing back his chair. He looked at Kira. "I am sorry to end the evening so early."

"There's no need to apologies." Kira too stood up, taking the hint that he was being asked to leave.

"Do stay and have coffee with me, before you go," Cagalli said deliberately. "You may keep me company until Athrun has finished working."

No remark could have been more calculated to annoy Athrun, but he showed no sign of it as he gave her a warm glance and murmured that he would join her as quickly as possible.

Alone with Kira in the salon, she regretted having asked him to say, for there was something about him that put her on her guard. He seemed all too friendly for her own good.

"I still can't believe Athrun is married," he said, as a man-servant placed a silver coffee set on the table between them and then noiselessly departed.

"I find your surprise unflattering," she said flatly.

"It wasn't meant to be," he assured her. "But as you know, Athrun had vowed never to remarry. After Meer, I can't say I blame him. She wasn't good for him, you know. He smiled around her, but I don't think he actually loved her...it was strange when he told me he was going to marry her…"

"_Strange_?"

"Athrun had only been with Meer due to a political upheaval in the PLANTs…he felt it was his duty to protect her. But I never actually thought he had any feelings for until he announced his marriage to her." He studied her and continued. "I had no idea Athrun's father, Patrick, had taken any interest in your welfare," he said unexpectedly. "The former Chairman didn't seem the type of man who would do such a thing." Cagalli was startled at this statement, as all Athrun ever seemed to preach was how regretful he had been. "I don't know if I should be saying this, but Athrun's father was a less then agreeable man to be around. Even Athrun had trouble while in his presence. I was young when the Nara scandal broke and I thought there was going to be another war."

"I thought so too," Cagalli said softly. "I didn't want Orb to go to war, and I knew my father was innocent, but nobody believed me."

"I believed you," he said with determination. "I believed in the Nara-Athha name and so did my father."

"Thank-you," Cagalli said meeting his eyes.

"I'm glad you are so happy now," he said softly.

"It is my husband's happiness that concerns me more."

"I am glad to hear it," he said with a small smile. "After Meer's death, he burned the candle at both ends as well as in the middle. To be contented and at peace with himself is exactly what he needs."

"You sound as if you mean it," Cagalli said quietly.

"I do." He leaned forward, a seriousness in his mien she had not seen before. Athrun might dislike his friend, and in saying that, perhaps Kira disliked Athrun also. However, she felt the dislike came from self-defense. That meant it was Athrun who propagated it. Again, she would have given a great deal to know the cause.

"Is your home like this?" she asked, changing the subject.

"Far less palatial. Compared with the Zala's, my home is meager." His eyes darkened. "You have married into one of the richest families in the inner-galaxy, Cagalli."

She noted he had dropped the formality and his voice had taken on a quieter edge.

"Do I detect a warning in your tone?" she asked, on edge and taken back by the sudden seriousness in his voice.

"Only an advisory one. Living with the Zala's can be hard and demanding, Cagalli. In the elite circles in which Athrun mixes, you will have to tread carefully if you don't want to be stepped on. I want you to be safe."

"I am sure I shall manage," she said lightly.

"The confidence of innocence," he said, his eyes flashing. "But you will need more then that to see you through. Please Cagalli, be careful."

"I have my husband."

"Of course," said Kira softly. "It is just that I still remember how he was with Meer and—"

"I'd rather you now talk about it." Cagalli decided it was time to make her position clear. "I am not interested in the past and I have no wish to hear of my husband's previous marriage." However, she knew that was as much as a lie as Kira did.

"A woman without curiosity?" he said hoping to perhaps catch her lie and force the truth out of her.

"No," she admitted, "but I don't want to learn about her with…malice."

"You think me malicious, then?"

_"I'm--,_ I'm not sure," she finally said. "You claim to be Athrun's friend, yet he regards you with such contempt that I'm sure you must be lying."

"Then until you _are_ sure, I will say no more." He rose. "You have been most kind with you hospitality Cagalli, but if Athrun comes back and finds me still here, he will be annoyed."

"You are a better judge of that than I am."

He bowed over her hand. "If you are ever free and wish to see me, please call me at any time. I think…I think I will be staying at the estate for the next little while, so you know where to find me."

For a reason she could not define, he seemed troubled, and she decided to leave the option open.

"I may well call you in a few days. Athrun has to go into Bordeaux and if I don't go with him—"

"Then it will be an excellent opportunity for you to visit me," Kira said with a bright smile, and touching his lips to her hand, went from the room.

His departure left her feeling unusually lonely. Small though the salon was, it was too vast for her to remain in it by herself. With an echo of the sigh she would not allow herself to give, she went to her private-sitting room. Here the atmosphere was more cozy, but it evoked an image of Athrun sitting here with Meer, and the picture drove her irritably into her bedroom.

She began to undress. Her hands were quicker then usual and she pulled so fast at her zip that it stuck. She tried to bring it up again, but it refused to move. Muttering, she wriggled the bodice higher. Working blindly it was impossibly to see what she had done, but she was pretty sure she had caught some of the material in the metal teeth. There was no option but to ring for Anne-Marie. Yet it was past eleven o'clock and she was reluctant to do so. Again she tugged at her dress, but feeling the flimsy fabric rip, stopped with an exclamation of annoyance. Perhaps she could find another servant to help her and avoid waking her maid...

She went along the corridor and back down the stairs to the first floor. There were no servants to be found and she went down to the ground floor, realizing with wry humor that though she had been Athrun's wife for several weeks she did not know where the kitchen quarters were. How ephemeral her existence was here! If she disappeared tomorrow she would have left no trace on the Chateau or on Athrun's life. This was exactly what he wanted and, by continuing her passive role, she was playing right into his hands. The knowledge lent firmness to her step and she walked swiftly across the marble floor to his office. Before she reached the heavy oak door it opened and Athrun stood framed on the threshold. Surprised, he stared at her.

"What are you doing here?" he demanded.

"My zipper is stuck," she admitted sheepishly.

"Your what?"

"The zip on my dress. I can't get out of it."

"Where is your maid?"

"Asleep, I should think."

"You will find she does not retire to her room until _you_ have done so."

"How would she know when I've gone to bed?"

"A couple of men are always on duty until we leave the first floor each night. They would inform her that you are on your way to your room.

"Like royalty," Cagalli commented drily.

"The servants expect us to maintain a standard," he said icily. "If we don't, they feel they are not fulfilling their functions."

"I don't consider it a necessary function for one human being to bow and scrape to another."

"Each one of us has to defer to someone else."

The conversation was getting away from the point. Athrun was using her ignorance of his way of life to make her feel out of place in his world.

"I find your ideas archaic," she said, "but then I didn't have your_ regal_ upbringing!"

"I went to a boarding school and university too, just as you Cagalli."

She could not imagine him in the life of a school-boys, or that of an undergraduate.

"But you remained a Zala through and though."

"You are a Zala now too," he reminded her.

"An how you wish I weren't!" she said loosing her temper.

A scowl marred his good-looking face, yet it only made him more handsome. He had loosened his tie and undone the top button of his shirt. It gave him a sensual air and she averted her eyes from the soft tangle of hair that she glimpsed at the base of this throat.

"Ever if Anne-Marie is awake," she said quickly. "I think it an imposition to bother her at this time of night."

"You will find her in the ironing room at the end of your corridor. My valet uses it too."

Aware of her reluctance to do as he said, he snapped off the light in the room behind him. "Come, I will show you I am right."

He walked across the hall and up the stairs, moving gracefully for such a tall man. Because of his size and the coloring it was hard to think of him a Frenchman. Yet he had the Frenchman's slumberous look: of passion held in check.

Reaching the second floor, we went swiftly past her own suite and turned down a narrow passage lined with doors. "The ironing room," he murmured, and turned the handle. It was a small room by the Chateau's standards but was large enough to house racks for clothes, a washing machine and dryer, two ironing boards and a couple of easy chairs. In one of these, Anne-Marie was asleep. Instantly, Cagalli backed out, forcing Athrun to turn and follow her.

"I have no intentions of waking her up," she whispered angrily.

"Do you want her to sleep like that all night? I doubt if she will wake on her own for several hours and she won't thank you for giving her a stiff neck." He glanced over her shoulder. "You have probably given her a few sleepless nights already if you haven't rung for her to help you undress."

"I am perfectly capable of undressing myself, thank you very much," she retorted. "I don't need anyone to undress me!"

"You need it now."

"A broken zipper can happen at any time." Crossly, she went back to her own suite and only as she entered the sitting-room she realize Athrun had followed her in. The anger had left him and he looked faintly amused.

"How do you propose to get out of your dress?"

"_You _can help me," she said promptly, and coming close, turned her back on him. She felt his surprise in the stiffening on his body, but his hands were steady as they worked on her zipper.

"It's stuck fast," he said after a moment. "I think you will have to cut the dress off."

"But I only bought it a month ago!" she exclaimed.

"It will be no loss."

Angrily, she whirled around on him. "Do you have to be so rude?"

"Is it rude to be truthful?"

"What's wrong with my dress?"

"It's not suitable for my wife. The wife of Chairman."

"At least you remember who I am!" she scoffed, angry with him again.

"Unfortunately, I cannot forget."

She reddened but ignored the comment.

"The color of the dress suits me, and I so happen to like it."

"It's cheap and it looks it!"

"What an _arrogant _asshole you are," she said furiously, biting her lip in contempt. "Arrogant and a snob! But you won't make _me _one."

"I didn't want to make you my wife either," he said, "but since you are, you should at least conform to the position you coveted."

"I never—" She stopped. It was useless to say she had never coveted this position, when her actions denied it. Yet she could not allow him to misunderstand her so badly. "I married you to take away your freedom, not because I wanted your money or your position!"

"Had it not been for both these considerations, I feel sure you would have behaved in a different manner."

"Must you always talk like an egotistical misogynist!" she cried in frustration.

"Don't talk to me like that." Angrily, he caught her by forearm with a firm and almost uncomfortable grip. "Nobody speaks to me in that manner—nobody. Understand?"

"I'm not a nobody, Athrun, I'm your wife!" She was sorry the minute she had spoken, for the words made her intensely conscious of his hold on her, of the lateness of the hour, and of the fact that they were in her sitting-room with her bedroom door open.

"We must learn to tolerate each other," she said quickly, flinching away from him, but his grip never wavering. "If we don't—our life together will be intolerable."

"If it is intolerable enough," he grated, "you might be persuaded to go away!"

"Never! I am your conscience, Athrun, and I'm never going to leave you."

His hands dropped away from her and his anger dropped away too.

"Can't you see that in spoiling my life, your also spoiling your own?"

"I am happy with my life here," she said lying through her teeth. "I have everything a girl would want: a handsome husband, fabulous wealth and a magnificent home."

"Will that be enough for you, Cagalli? Won't you want affection and understanding? The love of a man who wishes to share his life with you?"

"You're happy enough to live without that kind of love," she taunted. "Why be surprised because I'm going to do the same?"

His mouth opened and then shut tight. She saw the effort it cost him to control his temper and wished suddenly that he would lose it. Then he might speak to her from the heart and not from the head. But it was a futile wish, for without a word, he turned on his heel and strode out.

Only as the door closed behind him did Cagalli remember she was still unable to take off her dress. Without giving herself time to think, she found her nail scissors hand viciously cut down the front of the bodice in a rage. The dress fell to the floor and stepped out of it. That should please Athrun! She kicked at the material. Cheap, was it? Well, she would show him the meaning of expensive. She would throw out everything in her wardrobe and start from scratch. She would become the best-dressed woman n the world no matter what it cost him.

Unexpectedly, the humor of the situation dissolved her anger and with a rueful smile she picked up the dress and held it against her cheek. It had been one the dresses she had truely liked, and now was regretting the damage she had done to it. Logically, Athrun was right—if she wanted to be the Chairman's wife, she should at least dress the part. It was the nearest she would ever get to fulfilling the role as his wife.


	7. Chapter 7

**Chapter 7**

Cagalli did not see Athrun until the following evening at dinner. He did not refer to what had happened the night before and neither did she. She was still firm in her resolve to buy herself new clothes, if only to waste Athrun's money, but was not sure how to set about it. A trip to Bordeaux might be the answer, though it was unlikely to provide the couture wardrobe Athrun expected her to wear.

"Do you like doing business entertaining?" she asked, when the silence at the table had begun to get on her nerves.

"I wouldn't do it otherwise."

"I thought it was a 'must'."

"I have no need to recognize the word 'must'," he replied. "My firm leadership over ZAFT remains, as does the sale of my wines whether I entertain or not."

"I wonder what happened to all the wines _we _had?" She had not thought of it before, but now recalled the vast wine cellar beneath their home in Orb. "After my father died I never went back to it," she added. "I don't even know what happened to the furniture…"

"Everything was sold," Athrun replied with no hint of remorse. "My father saw to it all. They money went to pay the bills your father incurred for his defense."

"A needless defense," she said bitterly.

"Needless," he agreed, and fell silent.

"And what of my home?" she suddenly asked. "What happened to the Nara Household?"

"I believe it was sold as well to another noble family who quickly inhabited it. The Seirans' I believe…"

Silently, Cagalli fumed. Painful memories flooded back to her and to staunch them, she said the first thing that came into her head.

"We had no family to help us. Only my father's brother whom I met once, years ago. I'm not sure what happened to him after my father's arrest, only that he wasn't around and so I was sent to the orphanage."

"I sometimes think that no family might be better than too much family." His reply was half-humorous, however Cagalli felt dark undertones to its meaning. "I too have little family and appreciate the solitary it offers me. For what family I lack, friends easily make up."

"Why aren't you friendly with Kira then?"

"We are rivals," he said drily and said nothing more on the subject.

"I can't imagine you getting angry like you did last night over a bit of competition," she remarked, obvious to his lie.

"I didn't realize you knew me well enough to form an opinion on me."

"Since when do women need facts on which to base an opinion?" she said coolly.

His chuckle was spontaneous and unexpected, taking Cagalli quite by surprise. She decided she liked the sound of it and also liked what it did to his face. It took away the sad look and softened the severity of his austere features. When relaxed, his mouth was much softer, the lower lip fuller and the upper one well curved. Even his eyes changed: crinkling at the corners with amusement and lessening their steely look. She wished she could see more warmth in them when they looked at her. She caught her breath irritably. It was not necessary for Athrun to like her; any more than it was necessary for her to like him.

"I will be in Bordeaux and Paris tomorrow," he said suddenly. "I suggest you don't wait up at dinner for me."

"May I come with you?"

"I am there on business."

"I could go around to the shops," she suggest idly, playing with her fork.

"I will be leaving long before you get up," he gritted irritably.

"You don't want to take me, do you?"

"No."

It was uncompromising answer but at least it had the merit of truth. Cagalli sipped on her wine and studied him over the rim of her glass. Somehow she felt that lying was not a subterfuge he would allow himself. He was a man who liked to face facts, no matter how unpalatable they were, and she wondered if this attitude stemmed from courage or from an arrogant belief that he could overcome every obstacle put in his way.

"I think I'll spend the time going through the guest list again," she said casually.

"There is nothing for you to do with them. I have already told Monsieur Daudet which rooms to assign our visitors."

"I thought that was my duty? Miriallia brought me a list only a few days ago."

"Miriallia?" he said raising his brow. "Since when do you refer to your secretary on a first name basis?"

"Since I so happen to like the girl and I expect the same referral from her," she said lightly, ignoring the look of annoyance permeating off his face.

"That is inappropriate, not to mention unseemly. I will ask you stop that habit of yours immediately or—"

"Or what?" she snapped. "You'll fire the poor girl just like you did before because Meer didn't like her?"

Her comment was enough to silence him and Cagalli took silent gratification in her tiny victory over him. Besides, she thought idly. Even if he did fire Miriallia, she would hire the girl back in a heart-beat. She kept good company and was amusing to talk to throughout the rest of her boring and mundane existence at the Chateau.

The following day was no different from any other since she had arrived at the Chateau. She generally only saw Athrun in the evenings, and having him away all day should not have made any difference, yet expectantly it did and she was intensely conscious of being along amongst a house full of strangers.

"Don't worry, Cagalli," Miriallia said soothingly. "The household looks upon you as an improvement from the last Lady of the house."

Cagalli chose not to say anything to this comment in case she said something she might later regret. She wondered if her secretary was just being kind or otherwise. Surely the servants must talk amongst themselves at the oddness of the Chairman's marriage. After all, she and Athrun were supposed to be on their honeymoon, yet the didn't even act like lovers. Even the fact that they had elected to spend their honeymoon here must have caused comment. Made restless by her thoughts, she tried to tire herself by swimming in the pool, but after relaxing in the sun again for an hour, she was as uneasy as ever and at noon, she telephoned Kira.

He was surprised to hear from her so soon and sounded genuinely pleased that she would be joining him that afternoon. Immediately he had offered to pick her up and take him to his home for lunch.

"I'm quite capable of driving myself," she said. "I will get Miriallia to give me directions." At the mention of Miriallia, Kira suggested she join too, but Cagalli's secretary politely declined claiming household duties called.

Twenty minutes later she was driving along the narrow winding roads towards Kira's home. Soon she was bowling up the inevitable tree-lined driveway—with gardens stretching on either side of her—to reach a mellow bricked fairytale castle. It was like an illustration from a children's story.

As she got out of her car, Kira came hurrying down the steps to meet her. He was casually dressed in black loose fitting shirt and pair of tight-fitting pants. It showed his slim physique to advantage and she saw that though he was not as well built as Athrun, he was equally muscular.

"Your house is beautiful," Cagalli said in awe. "It's like something out of a dream."

"Hardly a comparison to the Zala Estate," he said laughing.

"No," said Cagalli firmly. "I much prefer this to my own with Athrun. Ours is so stuffy and old, while this seems more…carefree."

"Well, I must admit that I lied when I said this all belongs to me," Kira said ruefully. "It actually belongs to my—" he faltered with his words and looked at Cagalli awkwardly. "—my friend," he finally finished. "We've known each other for quite some time, so naturally she allows me to stay in her many places of residence."

"Would this be the friend who is missing?" Cagalli cautiously asked.

"Yes," Kira admitted. "But not missing. Simply hiding from me because she's angry…" She expected him to say more, but when he didn't, Cagalli simply nodded her head and let the subject die. "I thought you would like to swim before lunch," he said, bowing her hand over.

"I didn't bring a swim-suit with me…"

"I can supply you with one. My friend has many and I'm sure if she was here she wouldn't mind lending you one."

"As long as she wouldn't mind," Cagalli relented. He shook his head, laughing, and drew her around to the side of the Chateau. "Lacus wouldn't mind," he said softly. "She is the most generous person I know."

Lacus, Cagalli thought to herself. Such a pretty name. And by the way Kira acts about her, there was no doubt in her mind that he and the aforementioned girl were more then just friends.

Upon reaching the pool, Cagalli was greeted by a beautifully landscaped lawn with vines standing sentinel in the distance. A rose garden fleeted around the far side of the pool and Cagalli was amazed by their stunning colors. The pool itself was not as large as the Zala Estate, but the lounge chairs were luxurious and the cabanas well furnished, with showers, towels and several swimsuits which Kira had brought down from inside the house.

"I'll meet you outside." Kira put a swimsuit into her arms. "Don't be long."

When she joined him—slightly self-conscious in a one-piece black bathing suit—he was already in the pool and waved for her to join. When she dived in after him, she was forced to give chase as he quickly swam away, laughter and all. He made for the side and the came to a stop, Cagalli panting and Kira still laughing.

"You're very pretty with you hair like that," he said leaning up against the side of the pools edge and looking at her with his gentle eyes.

"Like what?" Cagalli quipped. "With it all wet and me looking like a drowned rat?"

"Yeah," he said in a reassuring voice. "Except don't let anyone tell you you look like a wet rat. You look good."

She blushed furiously and turned away. Then, with unhinged playfulness she turned round and splashed him.

"Well," she said with a fairly evil look in her bright, amber eyes. "I'm afraid I can't say the same about you, Mr. Yamato!" And with that, she splashed him again and took off.

"I'm glad to see your human," he commented through laughter, easily catching up to her in a few short strides. "When I first saw you, I thought you were an icicle."

"I'm shy," she lied.

"I doubt it," he said easily through a smile. "More likely overpowered by Athrun."

"You shouldn't talk to me about him like that," she scorned.

"Far better to say it to you than to anyone else. At least you're his family now and you love him. You do, don't you?"

She climbed out of the pool and sat on the side. "Do you?" he repeated, levering himself up beside her.

"Don't ask such a silly question!" However she was quite sure Kira noticed that she still hadn't affirmed her supposed love.

"I don't think it's silly," Kira said thoughtfully. "You didn't act like a honeymoon couple the other night and now you're spending your day alone with me while Athrun is in Paris overworking himself again with ZAFT business." He eyed her. "Or is this only your 'official' honeymoon?"

"It's definitely legal," she assured him straight-faced, as she pretended to misunderstand him.

A small '_hmm_' was the only thing heard from his mouth and Cagalli concentrated on squeezing the water from her hair, then shook her head somewhat like a dog. Luncheon was served on the terrace by a butler, an indication that while this Lacus women was not quite as rich as Athrun, she was certainly well off and could afford the higher luxuries of life. The manor here was smaller but furnished with priceless antiques which managed to look as if they were put to normal and good use, unlike the many items in the Zala household. Kira's comments about his day-to-day life while he was here told her this was the case, for though he had an apartment and another home on the PLANTs, and possibly another on Orb, he enjoyed spending his time here the most, due to Lacus's keen liking of the area.

"Have you ever been married? She asked during a temporary lull in the conversation.

He shook his head. "Like I said yesterday, I'm scared I won't make a good husband."

Idly, Cagalli secretly wondered if he meant to this Lacus women. As if to help along with this one-sided fantasy in which she saw Kira devoted to whomever Lacus was she instantly made her own remarks.

"But how would you know? You might make a great husband! You seem kind enough and I'm sure whoever you choose to be with would be more then happy to have a husband like you."

Kira flushed and flashed a small, rueful smile, but it deceived the pained look inebriating from his violet eyes.

"Maybe," he said softly. However, the subject soon died and Cagalli found herself at the whim of Kira's outlandish questions again.

"Are you and Athrun planning on having children?" he later asked. He grinned, almost childishly and looked excited at the thought. "I assume you and Athrun want a family because he was always fond of children," he said almost in a prattling way. "When we were younger, he told me he always desired to have a few of his own one day. I know he was extremely upset when Meer miscarried."

The fork in Cagalli's hand trembled and she set it down on her plate.

"_Didn't you_—" he saw the estranged look on Cagalli's face and bit his lip. "You didn't know, did you?" he said, his voice taking on a quieter tone.

"No," Cagalli finally ceded. "It isn't the sort of thing Athrun would discuss with me."

"Have you ever talked to him about _her_?"

"No," Cagalli said, deciding to be truthful rather then lie. "I…I have many doubts," she said continuing on. "And a great deal of curiosity, but I trust Athrun," she said firmly. "I'm sure my husband will tell me about Meer in his own time."

"I wonder," Kira said thoughtfully and signaled for their plates to be cleared. Soon, fresh plates and a large basket of fruit were placed before them and Cagalli helped herself to some grapes and dipped him into a silver bowl or water, aromatic with rose petals.

"You are totally different from Meer," he said carefully. "I always assumed that if Athrun remarried, we would choose a similar type. He was always a fool for girls in need of saving…"

"But they weren't happy together, were they?" Cagalli asked cautiously.

"No," said Kira firmly. "Perhaps at first they were, but it soon became apparent that Athrun had made a grave mistake by marrying Meer."

"I see," Cagalli said and plucked another grape from the vine on her plate and put it in her mouth.

"I don't blame you for not questioning Athrun about his past," Kira said with a kindness she was now getting use to seeing. "It would hurt his pride to tell you all that happened."

"It would also prevent you from telling me instead," Cagalli said lightly, but took the conversation very seriously.

"It's an open secret," Kira said, sighing. "Everyone in our circle of friends knew their marriage had ceased to exist long before she died. Any man other then Athrun would have thrown her out years before." Kira carefully began to peel an orange. "He was so devoted to her though, convinced that she still needed him to protect her that he never saw her for what she really was. He always blamed everyone else for the way she behaved—never Meer herself."

"I take it you weren't one of her admirers," Cagalli said in flat tone.

"No," Kira said, his voice taking on a steely edge. "Never. If you saw her, and saw my friend Lacus, you'd know why. She had been a social-climber and man-eater since she was eighteen."

"How was it that Athrun didn't now that? He isn't a fool."

"He was young and in love, I suppose. She was extremely beautiful; tiny, with stunning pink hair and big blue eyes. However, there were certain features about her that were…enhanced." Cagalli, however, didn't miss the distaste in his voice and perhaps a hint of bitterness. It was odd and uncharacteristic of him and Cagalli decided she didn't like it.

"Meer was illusive, but not without charm. False charm, if I might add. But Athrun refused to see that. He truly felt she was pure to the heart despite her unseemly activities…you are much better for him, Cagalli," Kira said with a hint of sadness lingering in his eyes.

"How did he meet her?" Cagalli suddenly blurted out, forgetting her façade of uninterest.

"I'm not sure," Kira said furrowing his brows. "However, I'm certain it was sometime during the second war. He was young and idealistic and thought Meer to be the cusp of innocence. By the end of the war within two months of the declaration of peace they were married and he brought her to live at the Chateau."

"Permanently?" Cagalli was surprised.

"That was his intention. His father was alive then and had resided in the Zala Estate on the PLANTs. He was designated to stay at the Chateau and make it his home. After six months, Meer grew bored and started spending more time in Paris, eventually taking shuttles back to the PLANTs. Athrun tried to be with her as often as he could, but even when he was, they used to fight. She liked an active social life in the eye of the public where he preferred quieter pleasures…"

"That isn't what the gossip columns have said," Cagalli mused.

"He only went for that sort of life when Meer was killed. He changed a lot after her death, more then he cared to realize."

"It was an car accident, wasn't it?"

"Yes." He dipped his fingers in the silver dish in front of him and dried them on his napkin.

She sensed he did not wish to talk about Meer any more and was glad of it. When she was alone she would be able to mull over it and gain a far clearer picture of her rival. Yet how could one rival a dead woman who was permanently entombed in a man's memory? She frowned. Rival was foolish word to have used anyways, for it implied a liking she did _not_ feel for Athrun.

"But now Athrun has you," Kira continued, pushing back his chair. "And I hope his future happiness is assured."

"You sound as if you mean it," she commented in quiet voice, slowly looking in her drink and smiling slightly. The amount of care this man showed for Athrun was astounding and Cagalli couldn't help but admit to being slightly jealous, wishing somebody cared that much for her welfare.

"Of course I mean it. He is still my friend, despite how much he wishes to deny that."

Cagalli said nothing, choosing to keep silent rather then question the reason behind their obvious rocky relationship. She felt that if she pressed the point she would receive an answer she did not want to hear. Together, they rose, and Cagalli followed him back to the pool. This time they sat in the shade of an arbour.

"Are there any decent dress shops in Bordeaux?" she asked.

"Not suitable if you wise to be seen as the Chairman's wife," he said promptly. "You must shop in Paris, or go the PLANTs."

"Both are too far away."

"Then Paris will come to you. I mean it!" he said, seeing her pull a face at what she took to be teasing. "Decide who you want to see and ask them to come here."

"I can just imagine a designer making the journey!" Cagalli said, almost laughing.

"For you? Of course they will," Kira said seriously. "Tell me who you wish to see and I will arrange it for you."

Seeing her disbelief, he pulled her to her feet and led her back to the manor and into a homely room where lounge chairs were covered in magnificent fabric which exactly matched the pattern of the faded yet still beautiful carpet. Near one of the windows was a desk piled high with documents and a telephone.

"Who shall it be?" he asked, picking up one of the phones. "Dior, Givenchy, or do you fancy an Italian? Valentino is excellent."

"My, my Kira," she said batting a playful eye at him. "How does a man such as yourself know all these altruistically feminine designers?" He blushed sheepishly before muttering something about '_Lacus_' and turned back to the phone. She pondered a moment before coming to a conclusion.

'Honestly," she said shaking her head. 'I don't know. I really haven't given a thought to my wardrobe before now and am at a lack of knowledge…"

"Delrino it is," Kira said flashing her a smile. "I feel the use of color in his design will complement your features perfectly." He spoke into the receiver and Cagalli sat down and listened to him. He was speaking on behalf of Lady Zala, he informed the person on the end of the line. The Lady was extremely busy and needed to have a complete assortment of clothes.

"Who am I?" he said in astonishment. "The Lady's personal secretary. Who else?"

There followed more conversation, after which he turned triumphantly in her direction. "Delrino will be at the Chateau on Friday."

"Why did he want to know my coloring and size?"

"I expect he'll bring some clothes with him," Kira replied thoughtfully. She gave a laugh of excitement. "I can't believe Delrino is coming to see me…"

"Not you, Cagalli," Kira teased, "but the Lady Athrun Zala. You obviously aren't used to the magic of that name."

"I'll never get used to it."

"I hope you don't," he said his eyes crinkling in the corners again. "Your naïveté is part of your charm." He cupped his hand beneath her elbow. "Let me show you the rest of the manor."

For the next hour they toured the home and the elaborate gardens.

"I don't suppose I could persuade you to stay for dinner?" he asked hopefully as they walked back to the manor. She shook her head.

"I should be leaving now. I don't want to be late…Athrun will be waiting." They reached her car and she stopped. "I enjoyed myself today with you Kira," she said, her cheeks flushing. It was embarrassing almost as to how much she had bonded with him. "Next time you should come to the estate."

"I will await you call," he said with fiery.

"It won't be until I can dazzle you with one of my dresses," she joked.

"That should be Saturday if Delrino has his way!" he laughed.

She too chuckled, and was still in a good mood when she arrived home. She was crossing the first floor corridor when Athrun came along it.

"Where have you been all day?" he asked. "You should have left word with Miss. Haw or your maid."

"Miriallia knew where I was if you had just asked," she said contritely.

"She had to fly into Paris this afternoon on business for Monsieur Daudet."

"I'm sorry. I didn't know you would be anxious about my whereabouts."

"As my wife, you are a target for terrorists," he said coldly. "I do not wish you to go exploring the countryside on your own."

"I wasn't exploring, as you so kindly put it," she snapped. "I spent the day with Kira at his estate."

There was no mistaking his anger.

"What right did you have to go there?"

"He said I could come over any time I was free." Her shoulders lifted in a haughty manner. "I was free all day, so I took him up on his invitation."

"You are not to do it again!" he snapped in anger.

"I beg your pardon?" she scoffed in disbelieve. He _must_ be joking.

"You may well beg my pardon," he said savagely. "In the future, you will not spend your free time with Kira Yamato! Do you understand that?"

"No, I don't," she spat venomously. "Kira is a kind-hearted man who I so happen to _enjoy _spending my time, unlike you. And if you want me to obey you, you will have to give me a proper reason to do so!"

"My wish is reason enough," he said with a dangerous edge to his voice.

"Not in this day and age!"

She went to walk past him, but he caught her arm and pulled her roughly back along the corridor, much to her vocalized protest, to the small salon. His gesture of violence was so unexpected that she was nearly sputtering once they arrived.

"How dare you--"

"I will give you a reason," he grated, his voice no longer melodious but harsh with suffering. "I have already had one wife throw herself at my supposed '_friend_' and I have no intention of letting the same thing happen to my second one!"

For a brief moment she did not understand him, then she did and felt sickened. Kira? No…she had only known him briefly, and felt sure he would not stoop to such levels. However, if what Athrun said was true…no wonder he had reacted so violently when he had discovered where she had spent the day.

"Kira wouldn't do something like that," she said with fierce determination. "And neither would I!"

"Oh he wouldn't, would he?" he said, his voice thick with hot and riled anger.

"If you didn't want me go over there, then why didn't you tell me before?"

"I don't like discussing my private affairs."

"Then don't reprimand me when I know nothing of what you want!" she shouted at him and twisted away.

He promptly removed his hand from her arm, but the pressure of it remained and she rubbed the soft flesh with her fingers.

"I don't get the impression that what Meer did was very private," she said contemptuously. "Everyone _except_ you knew the sort of person she was."

"You have undoubtedly been busy today." His eyes glittered. "What else did Kira tell you?"

"That she was bored and preferred to live on the PLANTs," she drawled oh-so matter-of-factly.

"Did you also learn that she was beautiful and vivacious and gave her favors to a man as lightly as a politician gives his word to his people?"

"No," she replied, lying. "I didn't learn that. Kira never said she was…"

"A whore? Perhaps he was saving it for next time you visit. Telling you a little bit each time. If he names a different man each day you should have enough conversation to last for year!"

"_Don't_!" she bit out impulsively. "_Don't_ say things like that. Can't you just try and forget?"

"I _was_ trying," he said. "But then_ you_ came into my life. Now do you understand why I didn't want to get married? Why I didn't want any other woman to bear my name, and make it a laughing-stock again?!"

"And why do you think I would do that?" she said glaring at him with the intensities of a thousand suns. "I have given you absolutely no reason to think I'm the same as Meer!"

"You might not be like that now," he said bitterly, "but you are young and beautiful and when the libertines discover you, you will have to be very strong to withstand all their flattery."

"Kira is not a libertine," Cagalli spat. "And you talk as if I had no mind of my own!"

"I talk from experience."

"Experience from one worthless woman," she retorted icily.

His eyes hardened and his features darkened.

"There have been other women in my life since Meer." His words, soft-spoken yet clear reminded her of the way he had lived for the past three years.

"That is of your own undoing," she replied evenly. "If you go looking for whores, you will find them."

"Perhaps," he said coolly. "But I've found you know, haven't I? What makes you think you're different from all the rest?"

Cagalli was furious.

"Because I am Cagalli Yula Athha and I am not some _slut _who is willing to fall for some patronizing womanizer!"

He visibly flinched at the mention of her name, perhaps more so at the use of 'Athha' rather then 'Zala' and took a step away.

"I suppose time will tell," he said calmly, yet his cool demeanor was fooling no one. "Meanwhile, you will appreciate why I do not wish you to see Kira alone."

"I refuse to be put in the same class as Meer," she riled in anger. "If you leave me alone day after day, the way you have done so far, then I will amuse myself in the best way I can. If not without Kira, then with someone else. But as friends," she added quickly, seeing his mouth tighten. "I am not looking for a lover. However, I don't see why I shouldn't," she added with viable contempt. "I am after all, not your_ real_ wife, or so have so eloquently put it in the past."

"If you took one," he growled, "any guilt I feel towards you would be at an end."

"And why would that be? You don't love me and you don't like me, so what I do in my free time in this fruitless, _fake_ marriage should be up to me."

"Just don't," he echoed, his eyes darkening.

"I'll try and remember that," she said her mouth twisting into a scowl, and turned to go up the stairs.

"Cagalli?" he called after her, his voice still cold and condescending.

"Yes?" She glanced over her shoulder.

"Please don't see Kira on your own anymore."

"Then don't leave me on my own anymore."

"I married you, didn't I? That's all you asked of me."

He made his point and there was nothing she could add to it. Silently she went to her room and out of nowhere, she began to cry.


	8. Chapter 8

**AN:_ So, there is really no excuse for my lack of updating. I really wish I had one, but it remains down to the fact that I lost my muse, found it again, and when I wished to continue writing this, had lost the book and couldn't fully remember the plot I had planned out. Either way, after extensive cleaning (and finding the long lost book) and re-planning, I would like to annouce the continuation of Unwilling Bridesgroom. Enjoy the new chapter, and please, review. It's what keeps me going._ =)**

**---**

**Chapter 8**

On Cagalli's breakfast tray the next morning lay a note from Athrun.

_"I have been called away to for business in Paris,"_ he had written_, "but I hope to be back at mid-morning. I will meet you at the pool."_

It was the first explanation he had ever given her about his business and the first suggestion that they should meet during the day. It was not the warmest of invitations, but it was better than nothing and she smiled slightly as she put the letter back into its envelope. Her first letter from Athrun, she thought wryly, but it was written out of hatred for his 'friend' Kira rather than interest in herself. Still, it was an invitation and she would accept it.

Unexpectedly nervous, she settled herself by the pool long before he was due back. Already the sun was intense in the deep blue sky and she was glad of her dark glasses. She wore a slimming one-piece she had bought from a chain-store back on the PLANTs, but knew Athrun would not be able to find fault in it, for its effect relied on her own figure and not from the cut of its material. This last thought reminded her of the green dress she had destroyed in a fit of temper. Anne-Marie had silently picked up the shreds from the floor and bustled out with them as if they had been discarded tissues from a waste bin. Was she used to women who cut their unwanted clothes? It was an amusing thought and her lips curved.

"Do I look so funny?" It was Athrun, and she violently jerked, opening her eyes.

"I'm s-sorry," she stammered. "I didn't see you."

She was seeing him now and she admired his tallness and strength set off by the most minimal of briefs. She had not seen him without a suit, or formal looking white-pressed shirt before, and found that in the flesh—such firm alabaster flesh—he was equally imposing. His shoulders were naturally wide, his waist narrow, his hips long and lean and curving down to hard-muscled calves. Inwardly, she atoned with wonder whether his stunning body was the by-product of genetic enhancement or sheer sweat and hard-work. Either way, she was unwilling to ask, and scowled slightly.

"Do you swim?" he asked. "Or are you dressed like that for decoration?"

"Of course I swim." Indignantly, she jumped to her feet. "Care to see?"

"By all means." He dived into the water, swimming below the surface for several yards, and then rising to push hair off his face. "I'm still waiting," he called.

With a toss of her head, Cagalli followed him into the water, not to be outdone by like the likes of Athrun, and headed towards the far end. He kept easy pace with her, though she was panting by the time she levered herself out to sit on the edge. He however, seemed perfectly fine and looked as though he could swim another easy twenty laps without evening daring to huff from exhaustion. Without thinking much, she began to pull her wet hair from her face and dragged it back into a ponytail. Athrun however, shook his head and stopped her.

"Let it dry properly, Cagalli, otherwise you will catch a cold."

"I thought you'd be delighted if I caught pneumonia and died," she retorted somewhat cattily. Just being around Athrun put her on edge and she was beginning to realize that with all the arguing they did, she couldn't tell when he was trying to be sincere or otherwise. Either way, his face darkened.

"I already have one death on my conscience. I don't want another."

She knew he was referring to Meer and saw it as an opening to learn more.

"You don't mean she—she—," Cagalli seemed a tad horrified by the thought.

"It wasn't suicide," he intervened smoothly, "but we had a bad fight and she wasn't in a fit state to drive when she got behind the wheel."

Cagalli waited for him to say more, but when he didn't, she busied herself by childishly dipping her feet in and out of the water.

"Do you always act in such a paradox?" he suddenly asked, seemingly rather amused. Cagalli, confused, said nothing and continued to splash in the water. "One moment you have the mouth of a politician on you and next you behave with child-like naivety," he explained. Still, Cagalli said nothing, smiling softly to herself before leaving the poolside all together and settling on a lounge chair. The pool reminded her of childhood memories at home back in Orb, and it was only now that she was truly appreciating the water. They too had a pool, although nothing this size, and a considerable amount of her childhood had been spent swimming around in it's crystal clear waters. Closing her eyes, he heard him pull himself out of the pool and settle onto the reclining lounger next to her.

"Your criticism of me last night was justified," he went on to say. "If we are to maintain this marriage we must be civilized about it."

It was not the most abject of apologies—hardly an apology at all—but it was better than nothing, and understanding his pride, she knew how much it had cost him to say even this.

She squinted at him in the sunlight.

"I know you hate being tied to me, and I understand why,"—or at least she tried to—"but at least I'm protecting you from other women." She had tried to make their marriage seem subjectively better in this light, because otherwise, even to herself, she was realizing that it was becoming quite unbearable.

"You mean I can hide behind one skirt to hide from all the rest?" He lowered his head and their eyes met. Liquid amber and glassy emerald. "At last I know where I am with you," he said reflectively, "and as long as you make no more demands on me than you have done so far, it could well be the best solution for me."

The future he envisaged for himself did not strike her as a particularly happy one, but then for as long as remained with him, hers would not be happy either. The knowledge that she was here from choice was only a small amount of compensation. With a sigh, she closed her eyes again. The sun beat down on her, brining with it a blissful lethargy. Everything was forgotten except the pleasure of the moment; the air, softly scented with flowers and fresh-cut grass; the breeze made cooler by the presence of the pool and the well-cushioned mattress that yielded to her body beneath the lounger. Everything here reminded her of Orb; of Kisuke, the cooks, the maids who bathed her in childhood, the guards at the front gate, the gardens, her father…how she missed her childhood home so…

Cagalli drifted into sleep and awoke with start, not knowing how long she had been unconscious. She turned her head and saw Athrun was still beside her. He was motionless, his eyes closed, his breath so slow and even that she knew he was asleep. Unconsciousness made him look like a different man. There was still soft lines running down either side of his nose to the corners of his mouth, but they were so smooth that now his face looked like porcelain. His brow was wide and serene, and because he was lying flat, his thick hair fell away from it, the bluest strands that normally fell forward now visible among the darker, almost black hair. Suddenly, she knew an urge to feel the texture. Gingerly, she touched them. How soft his hair was! Quickly she took her hand away, but the movement roused him and his lids lifted into hers. They were an incredible motley of green, with a depth of color she had never seen anywhere else. They were beautiful. _He_ was beautiful. His eyes seemed to envelop her and she felt as though she were drowning in a lush malachite sea. So would she also if he would be holding her in his arms, she thought irrationally. Hastily, she shook away the thought and sat up, consciously drawing her attention back to her hair.

"Don't pin it back," he said. "Let it hang down."

"It looks unkempt and as I've been told, boyish," she said, remembering a remark one of the matron's at the orphange had said to her when she was younger.

"What's wrong with that?"

"It's hardly PLANT society's idea of the Chairman's wife," she retorted.

"At the moment PLANT society is not here."

"But they will be in a couple weeks." Because he seemed to be in a good mood, she returned to the subject of the visitors they were expecting. "I suppose we'll have to be dressed up all the time?"

"Only at dinner or if we give a formal luncheon. I never make my guests follow a regime." He too sat up straight and stretched.

Out of the corner of her eye she saw his biceps swell and was surprised, for when he dressed he gave no evidence of being muscular. Surely he was lean and sinewy, a picturesque statue of someone in their prime of physical fitness, but such displays of strength often remained unnoticed.

"Breakfasts are served in the bedrooms," he continued. "Lunch is generally a buffet on the terrace and in the evening we either give a formal dinner party for everyone in the main dining room or a smaller party for a selected group of people."

"You make the Chateau sound like a hotel," she remarked.

"That is exactly what it is during the wine harvest."

"Do you really need to do this sort of promotion?"

"I have already told you I like to do it."

"Well then, are all of the people who come here your friends?" she asked.

"Half of them. The rest are business friends."

"Will there be any single women?"

"No."

His voice was flat and suddenly she felt reluctant to continue the conversation lest it remind him that she had taken away his freedom. She scrambled to her feet and looked down at him. She was sure he had too much character and sensitivity to be content forever with the trivial flirtations with which he had satisfied himself with since Meer's death. Wouldn't he grow tired of the coquetry and sparring that went hand in hand with such tenuous affairs?

"You are lost in thought, Cagalli. Is anything worrying you?"

Unwilling to tell him what she was thinking, she shook her head. He did not press the point and rose with easy grace to saunter to the edge of the pool. She was surprised by his lack of self-consciousness until she ruefully recollected that he might be used to women looking at his body. Quickly, she put on her sunglasses, gaining strength from the dark barrier they placed between her and the outside world. But it was not easy to put a barrier on the other conjectures teeming inside her and she decided that exercise was the best way of quieting them.

"How about a game of tennis?" she asked. Although not particularly fond of the sport, it seemed like a waste not to utilize all the facilities here at the Chateau.

"In this heat? It's far better to wait until later in the afternoon."

"Will you still be here?"

"This is my home," he said gravely.

"You know what I mean."

"I'll be here."

They lunched together at the table set out for them by the pool, shaded by a vast red umbrella that gave Athrun a distinctly colored look in comparison to his usual pale complexion. He was unusually talkative and Cagalli, feeling piqued, dared to ask if he had felt it to be a drawback to be born into such a strait-jacket of wealth and conformity.

"I have never consciously conformed to anything," he said slowly. "My father allowed me to follow any career I wished. However, after my mother's death, I enrolled in the ZAFT military, which pleased my father greatly. Even so, what I do now is of my own choosing. I am lucky that I have been so successful with my career in politics."

"But you don't need any more money," she retorted. "Your family left you with more then enough to live comfortably for the rest of your life. Why involve yourself in a dangerous game on a volatile playing field?"

"Money is synonymous with success," he told her. "And I involve myself in politics because I wish to change the legacy left by my father. As Chairman of the Defence Council of ZAFT, I can attempt to assure that no more tragedies befall our race, Naturals and Coordinators alike."

Cagalli shook her head.

"A scientist or doctor with a brilliant career doesn't earn in a year what you spend in a month. However, I can respect your decision to enter the world of politics. Your reasons seem just and motivated by the right decisions."

Still, Athrun frowned.

"We are talking of different kinds of success, Cagalli." He said nothing more on the subject and she dually noted that he did mention anymore of his career. Yet as always, when he spoke her name she noticed how attractively he drawled it. Without trying, he exuded sex appeal. She watched him covertly. What impact would he have made on her had she met him without being indoctrinated by what his father had done to her life? Would she have fallen in love with him like all the other women he knew, or would she have found his stunningly good looks and wealth all too obvious? Yet oddly enough, he was neither obvious nor did he set out to charm. On the contrary, his success with women, she was sure, stemmed from his uncaring attitude towards them.

"You have gone away again," he remarked. "Women are not normally distracted when they are with me. Where was your mind wandering this time?"

"In a dream world with you," she deadpanned. It was quick cover-up to hide her wandering thoughts. "Living in the lap of luxury."

"Do you see me as your benefactor?" he inclined himself to ask, curtly adjusting his gaze. She thought of this for a moment, and gave an honest answer.

"Of course," she replied. "You are a very generous man. Your money glosses over everything it touches."

"Do you think I need to buy my favors?" he asked smoothly, catching onto an unintended implication.

She had not meant this, but could appreciate why he assume she had. After all, she had been continually rude to him since they had met, so why should he now assume she had meant her statement as a compliment?

"If one is a buyer of favors," he went on, "one can also easily discard unfavorable aspects of one's life."

Anger spurted up in her, irrational and sharp, making her see how different his way of life had been from hers. How could he have wasted himself upon such spurious attachments? Didn't he have any pride? She knew this was a nonsensical question and she dismissed it. Of course he had pride. It was because he did that he refused to let himself care for anyone again. She almost glared at him. What did it matter to her what he did for his amusement so long as she was no part of it?

"A friend of mine will be arriving here the day after tomorrow," he suddenly said, oblivious to her anger.

Instantly, she knew it was a women.

"I thought the visitors weren't coming until the week after," she remarked coolly.

"Lacus is not an ordinary visitor. She has known me since childhood." Cagalli's mind shot to Kira and the mention of the Lacus from her visit in the previous day. Acutely, she wondered if they were one in the same. If so, what was she doing coming here, rather then living in her own home, which Cagalli still believed to be far more welcoming and homely then Athrun's cold manor.

"Lacus who?"

"Lacus Clyne. She is having problems at her own estate and wishes to remove herself from the situation, to which I do not blame her."

"And what type of problems would those be?" Cagalli asked, feigning dumb to the knowledge she had obtained from Kira.

"I'm sure Lacus wouldn't appreciate me spreading her social life across the countryside, even if it was to my lovely wife."

Smartly, Cagalli smiled with demure.

"A lovers-spat?" she asked innocently.

Athrun frowned, but said nothing, picking up his glass of wine.

"Something to that effect," he intoned. "This wine has an excellent bouquet. I must drop Edmond a line and tell him. He sent me a few bottles to sample."

"One of your rivals?" she asked. However, she was not oblivious to the obvious subject change that seemed rather blunt in Cagalli's opinion, especially considering it was Athrun. He nodded.

"A most respected one."

Still, she saw that he did not wish to continue to talk about Lacus Clyne, but there was no doubt in her mind that she must be the same Lacus that Kira had talked about so affectionately during her visit. She wondered what he must have done to drive her out of her own home…perhaps Athrun was right in disliking Kira as much as he did. She tried not to let his information cloud her judgment and turned her attention back to Athrun.

"How long will Mrs. Clyne be staying here?"

"Ms. Clyne," he corrected her sharply. "And I don't know. However, she is welcome to remain as long as she likes." There was a gentleness in his voice that made Cagalli wonder whether they had been lovers or if they still were. Perhaps this was another reason for Athrun's bitterness towards Kira. Had he stolen another one of Athrun's loves?

"So Ms. Clyne has never been married before?" Cagalli asked, presumably.

"No, but she was once engaged."

"To whom?" Cagalli asked politely.

"A man who never loved her properly as he should have. In the end, she left him for the man's dear friend."

"The man must have been very bitter," Cagalli remarked drolly.

"As far as I can tell," Athrun said, taking another sip of his wine, "there was no bitterness at the time it happened."

Sensing Athrun's agitation, Cagalli wisely decided to veer the subject in a different direction.

"If she is a frequent visitor here," Cagalli heard herself say coolly. "I assume she has her own special suite."

"The east wing. She is a poor sleeper and when she wakes likes to watch the sunrise."

Again, without meaning to, Cagalli felt an inexplicable spark of anger. Had Athrun watched it with her, or was he speaking from hearsay? She scoffed at herself. This was silly. Why was she feeling jealous? She knew he was waiting for her to ask him further questions, and using her own technique, she started to talk about the couturier who was coming to see her in a couple days.

"I'm glad you are interested in clothes," he said.

"You made it clear you dislike the ones I had," she said soberly.

"I would like to see your choice before you place your order."

"I am capable of choosing my own wardrobe," she replied, haughtily. "With Delrino's help and your money, I'm sure I won't disgrace you."

He gave her a slow, studied look.

"You are good basic material to work on, Cagalli. Your figure and coloring are excellent. It would take a very bad couturier to make a mistake with you. I suggest you maintain your innocent look—for as long as you can. Simple, pale colors would suit you best."

"For someone who professes to admire innocence, you had singularly little of it in—,"

"But you are my _wife_," he cut in smoothly. "And one's wife should be different from"—his pause was significant—"from one's friends."

With an effort she kept her temper.

"What happens when my innocence goes?"

"Then my guilt goes too. And so will you."

She was furious he should think he would be able to dismiss her so easily, and she flung down her napkin.

"I intend to be a dutiful wife to you, Athrun. You won't get rid of me just when the mood takes you."

"Don't count on it." His voice was almost a whisper. "You would be surprised how easily I can get my own way."

Knowing that this was true lessened her confidence and to bring it up again, she said: "I won't be here this afternoon. I promised to see Kira."

No remark could have been more calculated to annoy him and she was delighted with her lie.

"I told you last night that you are not to see him alone. I gave you my reasons and I assumed you would obey my wishes."

"I refuse to be equated with Meer. Anyway, how can I be a faithless wife when I've never really _been_ your wife in your condescending eyes!"

He jumped up so angrily that his chair toppled backwards. A servant hovering some distance away ran forward to right it, and his presence precluded further conversation and gave Cagalli the opportunity to slip away.

In her bedroom she looked at the telephone, unwilling to call Kira and invite herself over, yet equally unwilling for Athrun to learn that she had been lying. It was this latter reason that finally prompted her to put through her call.

"If you meant your offer about taking pity on me whenever I'm free—," she began, and could say more because he interrupted her with a jubilant laugh.

"I'll call you in an hour, princess."

No one had called her that since she had been a child and it gave her a shock that he seemed to sense despite the void between them.

"Don't you like that name?"

"Well, I'm not sure. I'm not a princess anymore. No one's used that name since I—since I was a child."

"And that was years and years ago," he teased. "I remember watching you on television once with your father at a public address and telling my father you were the girl I was going to marry when I grew up. You seemed so shy the way you clutched at his hand at the press conference…but I know now that you're anything but that."

The phone call came to an amicable end, and she was still smiling at the remark as she changed into a comfortable pair of pants and a loose, free flowing blouse. She left her hair down and with no make up on, she almost felt like a child again.

Reluctant to run the risk of seeing Athrun, she remained in her bedroom. Her quarrel with him had risen as quickly as a summer storm, but unlike a summer storm, it had not died quickly and she still raged at the things he had said. How dare he think he could get rid of her when the mood took him?

There was a diamond flash on the horizon out of her window. She watched it comer nearer and turn into the windscreen of a modest looking sports car. She knew it belonged to Kira before she could discern him in it and she ran down to meet him.

"Fighting with Athrun?" he asked as they drove away from the Chateau.

"What makes you say that?"

"Let's just say I've had a similar experience as of late. I've found that women often run in the opposite direction of their beloved and right into the arms of their husband's friends."

"But your hardly a friend of Athrun's," she remarked before she could even think about what she was saying. She blushed in embaressment, thinking herself rude. Kira however, simply smiled.

"He keeps saying that, but I refuse to accept it," he said lightly. "Still," he remarked his voice a quieter tone. His eyes looked far off and away. "Sometimes a fight can be exciting. It makes the reunion only so much more satisfying. It allows you learn how much you miss someone when they're gone from you."

She wasn't sure if he was talking about the relationship between him and Athrun, or the dynamics between romantic couples and decided to take the less complicated of routes.

"I haven't had an argument with Athrun," she began, and then shrugged. "Well, not much of one."

Under cover of fastening her seat belt, she studied him. Surely he guess that her marriage was not a normal one? He seemed highly intelligent. What would his reaction be if she told him the truth? She longed to confide in him and was only prevented by remembering Athrun's insistence that they maintain a charade of normality. Still, something about Kira's presence was soothing and brotherly and she figured that if he guessed the truth, there was no point in denying it. However, for the moment she could not tell him herself and hoped in the future the subject would arise and perhaps spill over.

"Let's go to Bordeaux," she suggested. "I feel like seeing lots of people."

"Instead of your loving husband?" She could not tell if his tone was critical or simply carefree.

"Why not? I need a change from the stuffiness of Athrun's estate. I don't know if anyone has ever told you, but being stuck alone all day with no one but servants to talk to can be awfully depressing." Realizing she might have unintentionally let on more then she meant to about the nature of Athrun and hers relationship, she hoped that he didn't catch on and belatedly wished that he not ask anymore probing questions.

Kira however, smiled light-heartedly, and as if he was offering her his sympathy and perhaps understanding, reacted with a solemn: "Trust me, I know."

The car spurted forward and she settled back in her seat, glad that the noise of the engine was too loud for further conversation.


	9. Chapter 9

___**AN: Thank you for all the support given for the last chapter. Each review is wholly appreciated and gave me the motivation to continue on with this story. The story alert notices I have recieved is astounding, as is the favorited alerts. Please, read and review, and I'm over and out.-ox, Airia **_

**_---_**

**Chapter 9**

The galactically renowned couturier arrived at the Chateau on Friday morning, complete with a model, a fitter, a seamstress and four large compartments of clothes. Cagalli was dumbstruck at being able to command such attention, though Delrino took her silence for sophistication.

"First I will show the Lady the collection I have brought with me," he said, and sat beside her in the salon as the model appeared in one outfit after another.

Within a short time, Cagalli had made clear her preference for style and color, and for the next hour, Delrino showed her only those of his clothes which met these requirements. With a total disregard for the cost, she ordered everything she liked. Had she still not been angry with Athrun, she would have behaved differently, but now she was determined to present him with the type of wife he deserved: a woman to whom the glittering panoply of wealth and rank was all-important. Normal emotions meant nothing to her; all that counted was her position in society and the covetous envy she could excite in others.

Once the collection had been shown, Delrino produced swatches of material and sketched out the additional clothes he thought she required.

"The Lady should set a style rather than follow one," he said. "With such glorious hair and exquisite features, you are unique."

She smiled away the compliment. "What style are you thinking of?"

"The Zala look." He clicked his fingers. "This is good, yes? It will be cool, sophisticated yet with a hint of innocent mischief."

"Me exactly," she said, straight-faced and watched as he resumed his sketching. To each completed design he pinned a snip of material, frequently asking Cagalli which color she preferred.

A servant came in to serve tea and lemon and Delrino sat back with satisfaction as Cagalli gave a final look at the clothes suggested for her. She failed to see herself in some of the more exotic creations but was willing to rely on the couturier's judgment.

"I will need accessories to go with all the clothes," she said. "To be honest, Mr. Delrino, I have little to my name."

"The past in unimportant, Lady Cagalli, and I will gladly see that your future places you among the top ten best-dressed women in the galaxy."

"It isn't the sort of position I particularly strive for," she confessed.

"If you will let me do the striving…" He glanced at his watch. "If I leave now I will get to Paris in time to take the shuttle back to Quintilis City. I will leave the seamstress and fitter here to alter the dresses you already chosen and I will be ready in ten days to fit the ones I am designing for you."

"You will come here, of course?" Cagalli said coolly.

"Of course. I am always at the Lady's service."

_"At the service of Athrun's money,"_ she amended silently, but gave him her hand and a charming smile as she bade him goodbye.

Because she had been with Delrino all day she had not seen Athrun, but knew from her secretary that he had gone to the Paris shuttle port to meet Lacus. When they had dined together the night before he had made no mention of it, nor had he referred to the fact that she had gone out with Kira. But his withdrawn manner had been a clear indication of his anger, and after a few abortive attempts to improve the conversation, she had lapsed into silence. What right did he have to criticize her behavior when he was behaving in way she could equally condemn? Or did he believe that because she had forced him into marriage he could still invite women friends to the Chateau as if he were still single? She knew she should not care how or with whom he spent his time, but she had learned lately that her emotions had little to do with logic. It was a disturbing realizations and one which she had shied away from inspecting too closely.

Although not overly anxious to look her best, she put on one of her new Delrino dresses just to spite Athrun and the hopeful dent she had made in his chequeing account. Very little alterations had been done to the clothes she had bought from the collection, and the Inner-Galactic designers lavish praise of her figure had given a fillip to her confidence which was further increased by the lavender silk jersey dress she had chosen to wear. In her hand it was a mere whisper of material, but around her body it clung to every curve. She decided on wearing make-up for once, accentuating her large amber eyes with earth-tone shadows and outlining the soft contours of her mouth with shimmering neutral colored gloss.

Anne-Marie was regretful that they had not arranged for a hairdresser to visit them from Paris, but volunteered the fact that she had once worked for the great Antoine himself. This was enough for Cagalli to tell her to get to work, and the result was a transformation. Together they decided to keep the golden-gilt tresses long enough to be worn loose if desired, yet sufficiently short to be arranged in waves or curls for the evening. Tonight Anne-Marie styled it into a Regency look, allowing a few fronds to curl on Cagalli's temples and sweeping the rest away from her face into a smooth roll around her head with a bunch of short bouncing curls on the crown. It drew attention to the lovely curve of Cagalli's neck and the charmingly titled nose. All that was lacking was suitable jewelry, and deciding that none was better than anything artificial, she did not even wear the single row of pearls which was alls he had left to remind of her of the mother she had never known.

"You must ask the Chairman to give you your jewelry," Anne-Marie said.

"I'll make note of it," Cagalli promised, and went out quickly before nervousness overcame her and decided to have dinner in her room.

She was halfway down the stairs when she became aware she was being watched, and from the doorway of the main salon, Athrun emerged. The light of the wall sconce turned his hair a deep, midnight blue. He wore a conventional dinner jacket and the stark black highlighted his pale skin. What magnificently fair coloring he had inherited from his mother, combined with the dark sensuality of his father's blood. Conscious of the narrowed gaze, she glided down the rest of the stairs to his side. Silently he stepped back to let her precede him and she walked the forty-foot length of the salon where a slight figure was seat amidst the brocade of cushions on one of the settees.

Lacus Clyne was different from what Cagalli had imaged. She was small, pale-skinned and petite, with wide, kind, innocent looking eyes that somehow held a fierce determination behind the pale violet coloring. Her hair was strikingly attractive, a long mass of pink held coltishly back by a single gold barrette, and by the unnatural, but certainly not unpleasing coloring, Cagalli was sure she was a Coordinator. Her face was a classic heart-shape with features to match, though her serene smile was a tad unsettling. Still, it curved in a friendly manner to show small pearly white teeth and equally pleasing cheekbones that made her look youthful and rather beautiful, all at the same time. She wore a pale, perfectly designed pink dress, which while simple, was elegant and accented her obvious style.

"I can see why Athrun was lured from his bachelor state," she said in a delightfully kind and soprano voice. She rose politely and offered Cagalli and even greater smile.

Her friendliness was disarming and continued throughout the evening. She refused to let Athrun talk of any subject in which they could not all share, and when they returned to the salon for coffee, she settled beside Cagalli and spoke to her almost exclusively. Cagalli judged her to younger then Athrun, perhaps even her own age, if not a bit older, and noted how child-like and naïve she too seemed.

"It's nice of Athrun to let me stay here," she remarked altruistically, adding cream to her tea. "I know I must be imposing, and I'm truly sorry for the inconvenience. Please Cagalli, forgive me for interrupting your honeymoon."

"Nonsense," Athrun said, interrupting their conversation smoothly. "You shall never impose upon anyone here at the Chateau, Lacus. I have already told you to regard this as your home for as long as you wish." His voice was unbelievably kind.

"I'm sure you felt that way when you were single," Lacus smiled. "But Cagalli might not feel the same way. If I'm too much trouble," she said to her female counterpart, "I can simply return to Aprilius City-,"

"I assure you she does," Athrun replied quickly, "so please don't worry about staying here. You are free to come and go as you please."

"Thank-you, Athrun," she said with in a quiet tone.

Using the silence that now slipped between the three, Cagalli used this as an opportunity to learn more about Lacus.

"You said you have a home in Aprilius City?" Cagalli asked.

"Oh yes," Lacus said brightly, her voice once again up-beat and unsettling. "My father had it built shortly after Aprilius was built. However, I find it strange to live there ever since his passing and for a short while, I was living in Orb."

Cagalli's attention piqued as this and she showed her great interest.

"Did you like it there?" she demurely asked.

"Oh yes, quite so," she said with a far off look settling on her dreamy face. "I resided on the Marshall Islands shortly after both the wars. The people were always friendly and the atmosphere had so much less political tension then the PLANTs. It was a relief to get away for while. Me and—,"—her face seemed to pale and suddenly she looked rather uncomfortable with the situation and subject matter. Deftly, she gave a soft laugh as if she was reminiscent of something. "Well anyways, it doesn't matter. I'm here now, surrounded by good friends." She smiled brightly and instantly changed the subject.

"Now tell me Cagalli, how is Athrun behaving to you?" She sounded like a tutting mother, gentle, but not without the desire for a little family gossip. Cagalli had the suspicion she might be scandalized if either of them indicated their marriage was a sham, and possibly grow irritatingly angry with Athrun if she told the kind girl about all the fighting that occurred between them.

With meaning, Athrun suavely responded: "That's a leading question that only my wife can answer." Cagalli, adept and thinking she was ready to lie was about to tell Lacus that that things between her and Athrun were fine, found herself unable to. Seeing her hesitation, he quickly spoke before Cagalli could do so. "Don't tease my wife, Lacus, she doesn't have your sophistication. She isn't used to this life-style yet and is only a child." The familiarity in his voice was unmistakable and the two old friends began to laugh as if they were sharing some nostalgic inside joke. Cagalli, for the first time since Lacus's arrival, felt rather out of the loop.

"Don't worry Cagalli," Lacus said turning her attention back to the flaxen haired girl. "Men like to believe their women are weak and trusting, and women like to believe their men are strong and protective and will take care of them forever. But I don't think you're a child and you hardly look like one. Between us women, we shall certainly have to keep Athrun in line."

Cagalli thought about this, and thought of the many women she knew who would never consider a marriage where one partner thought themselves superior to the other. But did Athrun like the women in his life to look up to him? He was content with having weaker, less defined women milling around in his life? She looked at him now and saw that without a doubt, he was immaculately groomed. Even on a desert island he would looked well groomed. She knew an urge to ruffle his composure; to make him aware of her as a person in her own right and not as a the evil creature he imaged her to be. Yet how _did_ he imagine her? To Lacus, he had referred to her as a child, but to her own face he had declare her to be revengeful and ambitious. She bit her lip. It did not matter what he thought of her. It was her own feelings that counted; her own bitterness that had to be assuaged. And when it was? Again, she was faced with a question she could not answer, and as always she pushed it aside.

"Do you also own a home her in France?" Cagalli asked covertly. She no longer wanted to talk about the relationship between her and Athrun. It was too confusing.

Lacus seemed delighted that she was taking a personal interesting in getting to know her and clapped her hands.

"Oh yes. It's a wonderful little manor with beautiful gardens. Years ago, Athrun had the roses planted for me in all shades of pinks and reds and whites. It's quite charming."

Athrun, sensing where Cagalli intended to lead this conversation smoothly cut in.

"However," he said smiling at her. "Lacus is far too kind and currently has tenements living in her manor. She finds herself unable to live there herself, but I'm sure she would love to if she had the chance. She finds our own gardens rather lacking when it comes to roses."

"Then we shall have to plant some," Cagalli proposed, seeing through his white lie. A women such as Lacus would never have a need for tenements living in any of her houses, anywhere, even if she was kindly and with a huge-heart. Still, Lacus seemed pleased with this suggestion, and with child-like vigor was up at the large cathedral windows, staring out over the black, vast gardens envisioning rows upon rows of pink roses. She returned to the conversation moments later and asked an innocent question.

"Cagalli, if you don't mind me asking, and not find it too rude, how old are you?"

"Twenty-one," she replied evenly and without a hitch. Not the child Athrun would have you believe me be."

"Why Athrun," she tutted. "You behaved like Cagalli was a girl of fifteen when you spoke of her. You yourself are only twenty-six next month, are you not?"

"Regretfully, yes."

Wanly, she smiled.

"We all have regrets." But Cagalli could sense she wasn't talking about Athrun's age. "With the past wars," Lacus said in strangely purposeful voice, "I think none of us have found themselves without regret."

"Cagalli did not participate in the wars," Athrun said stiffly.

"Then maybe Athrun was right in calling you a child, Cagalli," Lacus said thoughtfully. "You are still young and lucky enough to have no regrets involving the tragedies of our past." She had one, Cagalli thought bitterly. Allowing her father to die at the hands of Chairman Zala! If there had been no accusations, then there would have been no assassination…Cagalli, although sensing Lacus meant no offense in her comment couldn't help but feel tight lipped. Deliberately, as if to askew her real feelings, she looked at Athrun.

"I will leave you to answer that for me," she said.

He gave a shrug, and inhaled silently on his cigarette. Beside her, Lacus yawned and gracefully rose.

"The excitement of being here again has tired me. If you will both forgive me, I will retire to my room. Thank-you for your company."

"I'll take you there," Athrun moved to her side, looking exceptionally tall alongside the pink-haired songstress, whose head barely reached his shoulder.

Left alone, Cagalli wandered over to the window. The terrace was lit by lanterns but the rest of the grounds were in darkness, though in the distance she glimpsed the occasional flash of car's headlights. Offhandedly, she wondered if any of them were Kira. She made a mental note to call him the next day to see how he was doing. She would also have to mention that Lacus was staying here. Perhaps he would be more willing to talk of his "mysterious" women if Cagalli got her identity out in the open. Her thoughts drifted. Next week the Chateau would be full of people and for a month after that she would not have a moment to call her own. But then what? What pattern would her life take on when the wine season was over and she and Athrun returned to December City on the PLANTs? Here at least he could avoid her all day and retire to his library in the evening. But on December City, their social life would be more exigent and if he would not allow her to accompany him, it would make nonsense of his repeated statements that he wanted his marriage to appear normal. Would he have her simply sit in his mansion all day while he ran about running the head of ZAFT, shuttling between the PLANTs and playing his role as the Chairman? She hoped not. However if he changed his mind about this, then their paths would take different ways. They would each life their own life though continuing to come together under the same roof at night. In all honesty, it would be more then a sham then ever. Faced with such a future she was not sure how long she would be able to continue with it.

She should never have married Athun. Nothing she did to him could eradicate the past. Indeed by forcing herself into his life she had merely entrenched the past more securely. Sighing, she turned back to the centre of the room. The gilt and enamel clock on the mantelshelf chimed, and she saw with surprised that it was one o'clock. Athrun had been gone more than an hour. Had he decided not to come back to the salon but go directly to his own room?

Annoyed that he should have done so without saying goodnight to her, she went up to the next floor, pausing at the turn of the stairs to admire the sweep of the banisters and to think again what a lovely home this would if only their was some children in it to make it alive again. However the idea of her and Athrun having children together was down right laughable as was the idea of Athrun in father-figure role. She walked down the corridor towards her bedroom. Anne-Marie no longer remained in the ironing room until she retired, for after what she now thought of as the dress incident, she had insisted that the women go to bed at a reasonable hour.

Yet tonight she would have welcomed the women's fussy comfort. Lacus's admiration and compliments had rung an uneasy tune in her ears. Admittedly, she was a nice girl, a paragon of virtues and undeniably sweet and gentile. However, after a few days of imaging this horrible girl who she believed was here to steal Athrun away from her right under her nose, she found it easier to cope with her through dislike, rather then the stark opposite of which she had met tonight. There was no denying it. Cagalli had been wrong about the visitor of whom she had been expecting. Why did Lacus have to be so friendly? Was she truly genuine, or was all of this simply a ploy to throw her off balance?

As she passed the narrow hall that led to the linen cupboards and ironing room, she saw Athrun's valet.

"I thought you'd gone to bed, Gaston."

"The Chairman hasn't rung yet."

Cagalli walked on, but as she reached her suite, she stopped. Could Athrun still be with Lacus? He had said he was going to take her to her room, but she had not assumed he had meant to stay there. Anger rose and she tried to fight it down. Not Lacus. She was terribly nice and as hard as Cagalli tried, she simply couldn't help but like her. But this…surely Athrun had discretion not to carry on with an affair in his own home? If either Lacus or Athrun were consummating an affair, she would find with perfect simplicity the means to hate both of them equally. A step behind her made her turn and she saw Athrun coming towards her.

"I thought you had gone to bed." She was surprised at how breathless her voice sounded and hoped he had not noticed it.

"I was with Lacus."

"For so long?"

"We had much to catch up upon." Still, one eyebrow rose. "Were you timing me?"

"Not intentionally. It wasn't until I saw Gaston just now that I realized you weren't in your room."

"I don't think I have to account to you where I spend my time."

"There's no need to be rude to me, Athrun."

"It is rude to be truthful?"

"How truthful have you been about Lacus?" she asked. "Is she really a family friend, or are you simply doing this to make Kira jealous?" The words slipped out of her mouth before she could even think about what she was saying. In all honesty, she really hadn't a clue if this Lacus was the same one as Kira's, however, all the information added up. Obviously, the two had had a fight, and Cagalli now understood completely why Lacus would never throw Kira out of her own home, hence the reason why he still stayed at her manor. The girl, like Athrun said, was far too nice.

"Is that why you think I have invited her here to stay?" he asked coldly. "To resume an affair in order to exact revenge on a former friend?"

With those words, Cagalli's suspicions were confirmed. The two Lacus's were indeed one in the same.

"Yes," Cagalli answered spitefully, although she knew it couldn't be true.

Swiftly, he reached for her arm and pulled her into her room. He stepped inside with her and closed the door. Fear flickered through her, but she fought not to show it.

"Why do you care what I think?" she demanded haughtily.

"Because Lacus will be staying her for several weeks—possibly longer—and I will not allow you to embarrass her with your stupid accusations. What has happened between her and Kira is private."

"I haven't accused her of anything. And the only one it's seems private to is me! I'm the only one around this house who doesn't seem to know what's going on!"

"You have accused me instead," he conceded, ignoring her last remarks, "but knowing you as I do, I feel you are quite likely to make your opinions clear to her by the way you behave."

"You don't know me at all," she shot back cattily. "And I didn't think you care enough about any woman, let alone Lacus!"

"I do not regard Lacus as 'any women'. We were childhood playmates. She was—,"

"Like a sister to you!" Cagalli cut in, mocking him. "Well, I can tell she doesn't see you as a brother." But even Cagalli knew that statement was farthest from the truth as it could get. Lacus had looked at Athrun with nothing but loving, sisterly eyes the whole evening. Still, Cagalli let her anger succeed her and she continued, trying her best to hurt Athrun.

"You are being hysterical." It was an age-old taunt of all angry men to all women. "There is no point continuing this discussion until you are in a more reasonable frame of mind."

"I am perfectly reasonable," Cagalli lied. Jealously was flaring in her stomach in the most painful of ways. "By all means let her stay here—if that's what you want—but don't cheapen yourself by spending an hour in her bedroom, unless you don't care what the servants think."

"Are you suggesting I was…" His void faded as it was engulfed by fury. "My morals may not be pure at all times, but I would never demean my name by making love to another women with my wife a few doors away! Even if she is not a wife of my own choosing!"

"Do you expect me to believe that?" Cagalli spat.

"I not only expect it—I insist!" Too angry to control himself, he caught her viciously by the shoulders. For a moment, she thought he was going to hit her. "How dare you question my honor? If I wanted to make love to Lacus, I would never have brought her here. But I would never do that to her to begin with. Lacus is like a _sister_ to me, a dear friend and there is bond between us that you can't possibly begin to understand. You weren't there in the wars, nor were you part of PLANT politics. And I say this not because I give one damn about you, but because I have my own sense of right and wrong!"

She knew he spoke the truth, yet she would not admit it; it was as if she had to continued taunting him. She was very tempted to tell him that her absences from the wars was not of her own making, but of his fathers, but held her tongue. Instead she said:

"Your honor is the only thing you worry about. Nothing relates unless it relates to you. You are selfish and pig-headed. That's why you hate Kira. You don't care about what ever happened and didn't happen between him and Meer. You were only angry because you found out and because Kira was too foolish not to be found out. And that made _you_ look like a fool, didn't it?"

In reality, she hadn't a clue what she was talking about. She knew nothing of what had happened between Kira and Meer, and was only going on pieced together speculation. Still, it was enough to be right, for it brought Athrun into a right rage.

"You are talking about things you don't understand. I refuse to discuss this with you!"

"Only because you refuse to see the truth. Meer slept with lots of men. Why only center out Kira?"

"Because he was my friend!" he cried out angrily. "Because he should have known and seen the differences between Meer and Lacus! He said he loved Lacus, but when he slept with Meer, I couldn't ever understand how she ever forgave him. I never did. But Lacus is far too kind and far too forgiving. Even now, Kira hurts her in ways far too complicated."

Cagalli was confused.

"I don't—,"

"What?" Athrun furled. "Understand? Of course you don't. You don't understand anything. I told you this!" He grabbed her wrist and dragged her across the room bring her to the vanity stand. He searched through a pile of magazines in the basket next to the floor and flippantly picked up a rather thick one. After a few moments he came to a page and stopped.

"Look at this photo," he gritted.

Cagalli was mystified.

"Why that's Lacus," she responded, dumbstruck. However, the title of the article was misgiving, as it was speculative review on the dead Zala heiress in the aftermath.

"No," he snarled. "That's Meer."

Cagalli's face dropped.

"She looks—,"

"Identical?" Athrun cut in fiercely. "They were, in everyway. The only difference was their personalities, of which Lacus in all humanely ways possible was blessed with better virtues."

"Then it isn't Kira's fault!" Cagalli cried angrily. "You can't blame him for this! This girl is an imposter," she sputtered. "You married-, you married an imposter, a_ look-a-like_! Do you really love Lacus so much that you were willing to settle for second place?"

Athrun was furious, his green eyes ablaze.

"This has nothing to do with Lacus and everything to do with Kira," he seethed. "He came into my house as member of my family, a brother, a comrade, a childhood friend, and then used his position to—,"

"To mistakenly make love to a woman whom he obviously thought was his lover!" Cagalli cried. "Do you think he came in with a malicious purpose to entice your 'innocent' wife?" she snapped. "If you believe that, then you'll believe anything!"

"I don't believe in _you_," he cried, and before she knew what was happening, he pulled her against him.

His mouth clamped upon hers like a vice, stifling the words in her throat. His last statement had been puzzling, but she had no time to think about it. She struggled to free herself, but his grip around her tightened, his fingers digger into her flesh. This was the first close physical contact they had, and as she fought to be free of him she was conscious of his obviously superior strength. It was like fighting a battering ram. He pushed back and she felt the edge of the settee behind her, then the softness of the cushions as he flung her upon it. The weight of his body pinned her there and her anger was replaced by fear. Her struggles grew fiercer, but so did his hold on her, making it impossible for her to move her body. She tried to turn her face aside, but his mouth clung to hers, held there by a mounting passion that threatened to overwhelm her own control.

Willing herself to be calm, she went supine, hoping that if relaxed he would come to his senses. But he went on kissing her and as her struggles ceased, his hands lessened their painful grip on her shoulders and slid down her back. His fingers caressed her spin and each single vertebra tingled at his touch and sent shivers through her body. She was experiencing sensations unknown before; drowning in a depth of emotion she had not known she possessed. To fight it was like fighting oneself. She wanted to give in; wanted to respond; wanted to be absorbed by him.

"_Cagalli_," he said his voice a rigged edge of steel, and he half raised himself away from her.

She saw his face above her, so near that the skin had discernible texture. There was a flush on the high cheekbones and a glitter of passion in his narrowed eyes. Those same eyes which had gazed with passion at so many women, all of whom had been unimportant when the passion was over. Sickened by her thoughts, she pushed him violently away and rolled out from beneath him. At once she put the distance of the room between them and came to rest by the window.

"_Get out_ before I do something I regret," she spat violently. She was not beyond screaming at this point, a call for anything, a call for help.

"I have already done something I regret." The coolness of his voice flicked her like a knife and she marveled that he could speak with such control when only a short while ago he had been totally devoid of it.

"Forgive me, Cagalli. Next time we fight, I suggest we do it in a less intimate place than your bedroom." However, by the tone in his voice, she could clearly see he was not sorry at all.

"I hadn't realized you were so lacking in control," she spat bitterly.

"Blame it on your artistic creator," he said mockingly. "The credit goes to Delrino rather than to you."

It was the most hurtful thing he could have said and tears gushed into her eyes. Frightened in case he saw them, she turned away and did not see hi m go, though she heard his step on the carpet and the soft click of the closing door.


End file.
